


a heart even more your own

by rosepetalfall



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Jane Austen Fusion, Getting Back Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 37,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22225900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosepetalfall/pseuds/rosepetalfall
Summary: For the first year or two after he and Dak parted ways, Luke had mourned the relationship, nursing the ache of longing but assuring himself this was only natural and would pass in time. He had been young and in love, caught up in the sort of attachment that was only heightened by circumstance.Though Luke had been the one to sever their ties, he had not done so out of a lack of affection or dedication. No, there had been an excess of that between them.
Relationships: Dak Ralter/Luke Skywalker
Comments: 9
Kudos: 14





	a heart even more your own

**Author's Note:**

> For all of you who don't remember Dak, who was in ESB for about 30 seconds before dying on Hoth, please feel free to picture Lin-Manuel Miranda in the role instead. :D
> 
> Huge thanks for [SassySnowperson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DramaticEntrance/pseuds/SassySnowperson) for her amazing, indefatigable beta skills and cheerleading on this weirdo little project. I definitely would have given up on it if not for her. So thank you, Sassy, for getting me to finish a Persuasion AU, something I've wanted to do for years!

Cliegg Lars could not be described as a fanciful man and neither, in turn, could his son. Certainly, the elder Lars’ second marriage had come as something of a surprise to his neighbors (insomuch as one could have neighbors in the Freeholding; the distances were significant, but then gossip is a hardy traveler). He had not seemed a man to have two romances in his life, but it only went to show that one could never predict these things.

Still, discounting the one adventure (and it was easily done, for Shmi Skywalker was a good woman and a good moisture farmer), the Lars family was understood to consist of solid and sensible individuals. There was, of course, the missing Skywalker boy, of whom there were numerous rumors. But those were quickly shushed for they could not possibly reflect the kind sadness of Shmi Skywalker. And in any case, the real story was most likely a tragedy and thus hardly a story anyone desired to hear, for tragedy was ample enough without seeking out more.

When Owen, the only Lars child of his generation, married Beru Whitesun, the Freeholding was in general agreement that it was a good match. Owen and Beru cared less about this approval than the Freeholding chose to believe, but they were politic enough to leave this unmentioned. So life went on, uninterrupted (approximately, this being Tatooine, where sandstorms could rise out of a perfectly clear day). 

Only a year or so after the death of Cliegg Lars left Owen and Beru the sole owners of the Lars homestead, a baby arrived. Or rather, the baby was delivered. Not from its mother, who remained a mystery to the Freeholding, but by (it was said) a mysterious hooded man.

Owen and Beru, as rather factual people, insisted the mysterious figure was just the boy's foster uncle, a spacer who'd traveled with the Skywalker boy until the boy and his pretty love died and there was no one fit to raise the baby they'd left behind. But as this made for a less interesting story to pass around in Anchorhead, Owen and Beru's explanation was largely ignored. 

Raising the orphaned children of one's family was a well-established tradition in the Freeholding and the presence of little Luke Skywalker in the Lars household only solidified Owen and Beru's reputation as folks of the most dependable type. Further, it was a boon on both sides, for a young couple to be gifted with a child, and for a parentless child to find shelter.

As Luke grew older, it became clear that the young boy, though admirably energetic and quick to learn, _was_ fanciful. The Freeholding deduced he must have inherited the quality from his offworlder mother. It was unfortunate but not entirely surprising.

When Luke was about eight, however, a number of very strange occurrences took place, which would do much to tarnish the Lars’ reputation for sensibleness. First, little Luke Skywalker decided the tax Jabba's goons collected was unjust. This in and of itself was only an expected step in a child's development, but Luke made the very ill-advised choice to voice this opinion to Jabba's tax collectors. Second, the tax collectors in question mysteriously disappeared. A speeder crash because of a sandstorm was blamed, though in close whispers, the Freeholding wondered if that could be true; but better that it was and Jabba looked no further. More attention was never good attention. 

The third development was by far the most unexpected. Ben Kenobi, the Freeholding's local strange hermit, moved onto the Lars’ homestead and then stayed. For eleven years. 

What occurred at the end of those eleven years was another tragedy, though one far larger and longer than the Freeholding could have known, when first confronted with the smoldering remains of the once proud Lars homestead and a family disappeared without a trace.

* * *

Twelve years after the fire and their fleeing from Tatooine to answer the call of Alderaan's princess, the Lars-Kenobi household found themselves in highly altered circumstances. Most importantly, the galactic Empire that had done so much harm was gone. The long war for liberation had ended some seven years before. During the last, most outright stretch of the war, Luke had become a name of such renown that his old neighbors still found it hard to believe that the Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker, the pilot who destroyed the first Death Star, could be the same enthusiastic, blond-haired boy they had known. 

But it was true, for Luke was, in fact, a Jedi. Entirely devoid of other circumstances, he might have become a less fanciful child, but having the skills of telekinesis and telepathy never did much to encourage good sense. What Luke's Force sensitivity did not inculcate, though, years of training by his mentor turned uncle in truth, years of service as a combat starfighter pilot, and years as the face of the new Jedi Order, did.

From a fanciful child, Luke Skywalker had grown into a surprisingly serious and composed man of thirty-one. 

Though he was not quite the public figure his fierce royal sister was, Luke's private life was still of some interest to a not insignificant section of the New Republic population. It seemed, however, they would be perpetually disappointed, for day to day, Luke lead a remarkably mundane life for someone in his unique position. When not on missions for the New Republic, Luke spent his time helping his Uncle Ben (better known to the galaxy by his birth name of Obi-Wan) rebuild the Jedi Order and recruit new members. This was less interesting than it might sound.

The citizens of Republic City, where Luke, his assorted parental figures, the Jedi Temple, and the New Republic Senate made their home, were well used to him appearing at the Justice Square market to pick up the Temple's orders of fruit and vegetables, or slowly trawling through the Old Republic archives in the University of Hosnia's libraries, or weaving in and out of traffic on a speeder bike at speeds at the Hosnian police simply could not approve of. 

When Leia Organa deigned to marry, many eyes turned to Luke, in the assumption or hope that he might follow in his sister's footsteps shortly. Those expectations were left unfulfilled, for the years wore by and Luke remained unattached. 

Those old enough to remember the earlier iteration of the Jedi Order might have suggested Luke's continual single state was surely the result of the Jedi Order's rules. But this hypothesis would not have stood up to any investigation, for there were many among the new Jedi trainees who resided in the complex with spouses, partners, and children. Luke and Ben had agreed from the beginning that the new Order would be something far more open to families of many kinds. 

Ben, in particular, found himself grateful for this. He was not a man who approved of overt personal hypocrisy and would not otherwise have found himself free to ask if an offer of marriage the Larses had once extended to him more than a decade prior might still hold. Then, propriety and a deep, lingering grief had stayed his hand, if not his heart. But in this new day, he was free to ask and free to accept when the offer was indeed renewed. The happiness of his uncles and aunt, however, seemed to do little to encourage Luke to similarly settle down. 

Those who wanted to know Luke's motivations for gently refusing the variety of beings who made overtures of interest would have done better to look to Luke's formative years with the Rebel Alliance. That they generally did not displayed a surprising lack of imagination on their parts or, perhaps, reflected Luke’s good fortune in having discreet friends among the Rebellion. 

* * *

The years since the war had been fortunate ones for Dak Ralter, though they had unfolded in a manner his younger self had not predicted. Certainly though, he had fulfilled a great deal of what he had promised himself he would and more besides. After resigning his post with the newly formed New Republic Fleet, he had indeed returned home to the grateful embraces of his doting mothers and taken up the university slot he had earned and abandoned to seek the Rebellion at seventeen. Somewhat to his own surprise — he had held a secret fear that war had coarsened his mind and that loss had done the same to his heart — Dak had discovered a passion for his studies, finding a thrill in stellar cartography to rival that of piloting an X-Wing. The stars and the future were bright and filled with opportunity and Dak, a young man made sharper and more interesting by his time at war, found it only natural to reach for them both. 

If there were some dreams that had been forcibly laid aside, Dak did not allow himself to linger on them very long. Certainly not when there were other questions to ponder, like how pirates evading the Empire had established new trade routes and new settlements as a result. 

Dak applied himself during his years at university and as a result, won the chance to continue his studies on Chandrila, where his former place on the celebrated Rogue Squadron quickly won him friends. Despite regrets over the necessity of leaving his beloved homeplanet once more, Dak eagerly pursued the opportunity, until the road lead him to familiar territory once more: back tripping from star to star, though on a mid-size mapping vessel rather than a slim starfighter.

It seemed only a natural progression when the lead researcher on Dak’s team recommended him for a seat at the New Republic’s two-year consortium on new collaborative stellar cartography efforts. The application was reviewed and accepted in due time and so Dak found himself, at twenty-nine, preparing to travel to Hosnian Prime for the first time. There was a wide variety of people to inform, including his old squadron mates. 

The return messages were, for the most part, short and congratulatory, bearing promises of celebratory drinks the next time they were on the same planet or starbase (for many of Dak’s old friends had remained with the Fleet and called no one place home for very long). One exchange, at least, was different. Dak’s first position when he joined the Rebellion was as Hobbie Klivian’s gunner and there was still a particular bond between them. Dak had expected Hobbie’s holocall, but still found himself reluctant to address the topic he was certain Hobbie wished to discuss. 

In the end, Dak’s uncharacteristic reticence had little effect, for Hobbie declared, “If you’re going to be in Republic City, you might bump into him, you know.”

“It’s the capital of the New Republic. Do you know how many people live there?” was Dak’s reply. “I probably won’t see him at all.” 

But for all the confidence he met his friend’s observation with, Dak was, in fact, rather concerned himself. Even lightyears away, _he_ was difficult to avoid. Dak’s natural curiosity over his former lover could have been sated by news reports alone, but had been supplemented by second-hand stories from shared friends and acquaintances over the years. 

Still, if the increased possibility of seeing Luke Skywalker in person again was the price to pay for this especially glittering opportunity, Dak would take it. After all, it had been seven years since Luke had broken off their relationship suddenly and firmly, and Dak’s heart had healed.

* * *

Luke returned to Hosnian Prime in the middle of a busy week for the Temple. As one of only two recognized Jedi Knights of the New Republic, Luke found himself in the position of periodically accompanying the Fleet and other operatives on missions of special importance. In this case, Luke had not been gone long, for the supposedly dangerous artifact once belonging to the Emperor had proven to be nothing more than a well-designed hoax supplemented by rumor. 

Though indubitably a waste of time, the mission had at least involved some amusement of the explosive kind, something Luke sadly (in his own opinion) was now required to largely avoid and discourage in his role as a teacher. The Hosnian police had a certain affection for him, as their best-known and most accommodating frequent traffic law violator and fellow investigator of sorts, but they simply could not allow explosives to go off in the Temple courtyard (accidentally or otherwise) and terrify the neighbors. This strongly held stance had been communicated to Luke and Ben numerous times since the new Temple property on the outskirts of Republic City had been acquired. Not wanting to be exiled from the planet or possibly the New Republic when it was finally possible to openly train Jedi without being hunted, the Temple occupants did their best to comply. 

Luke’s return to Republic City was unremarkable, though something of a relief to the parents of the Temple. The Temple children who were of age to attend school were all nearing the end of summer term exams at various educational institutions across the city and the collective short tempers, coupled with the amplifying effect of Force-sensitive empathy, had made the Temple a difficult place to relax in recent days. 

As a result, upon pulling into the Temple courtyard, Luke was immediately accosted, mostly to be regaled by stories or desperate requests to use his speeder bike as practice for the mechanical engineering practical exam or in the case of parents, sent an urgent appeal that he hold a moving meditation session, preferably immediately, because the kids needed someone to help them calm the fuck down. 

Once the stories had been listened to with appropriate sympathy and the requests responded to (a definite no to anyone taking apart his bike but yes, he could hold a meditation session and did so once he cleaned himself up), Luke sent a holocall to his sister, currently ensconced in her Senatorial apartments across the city. 

After greetings and shared news, Leia informed Luke, “I heard something from Antilles recently.”

“Mmm?” Luke replied. This sort of introduction might precede news of the greatest interest or a long political rant during which Luke’s main duties were to nod and hum agreement at the correct intervals. 

“Ralter’s coming to Republic City for that cartography program.” 

Luke sat down rather abruptly. It was not that he never received news about Dak Ralter. He had, for though their parting of ways had been abrupt and final, they had not harbored such resentments that their shared friends and acquaintances felt obligated to shy away from contact with either. But they had not seen each other since the day they ceased to be a ‘them’. 

“Oh,” was Luke’s eloquent reply. 

“He’ll be here for two years,” Leia said. Her eyes narrowed. “I hope your strategy isn’t just going to be to avoid him for two whole years.”

In point of fact, that had indeed been Luke’s burgeoning plan. (Though Luke was a fair military leader, Luke’s plans, when they succeeded, tended to do so not because of any clever complexity but instead because they were markedly _odd_ or so absolutely direct that people did not know to expect them.) 

“You could talk to him,” Leia continued. 

“I’m not sure he’ll want to talk to me,” Luke said. 

There was no good reply to that, as Leia could hardly counter the claim in any truth. The call ended soon after and Luke found himself needing to clear his head once more. 

* * *

For the first year or two after he and Dak parted ways, Luke had mourned the relationship, nursing the ache of longing but assuring himself this was only natural and would pass in time. He had been young and in love, caught up in the sort of attachment that was only heightened by circumstance. Dak and he might have died any day and so any moment they were together, able to touch and kiss and whisper to one another, had felt precious. 

Though Luke had been the one to sever their ties, he had not done so out of a lack of affection or dedication. No, there had been an excess of that between them. 

From the moment they were introduced, there had been an easy, kindred warmth between them. They were two young men prone to high passions, who were thrown together near-daily and admired one another’s skills, good humor, and beauty. Provided with such fertile soil, love had sprung up easily, and over time grown deeper roots than anyone but themselves truly suspected, for war was difficult and wearying and endurance required leaning on another. So often, they were each other’s solace and relief. Indeed, the first time they had whispered ‘I love you’ to one another, Luke had only just been delivered to the med bay, betrayed and heartbroken, his right hand gone.

And so, for a period, Luke and Dak had made one another truly happy. But for all their mutual affection, their love had been rather less anchored than they had believed, for in their infatuation, they had not honestly considered a very important factor indeed: the future. 

But others had. Dak’s loving mothers dreamt of his return home and could not hide their hopes once the Empire had lost its Emperor. Whether Dak would be accompanied by the boy he imagined he would marry, when he made this long-awaited return, was far less important than the chance to hold their little boy, however grown, again. Though Dak’s mothers were genuinely fond of Luke, or as fond as they could become from the snatches of long-distance acquaintance they managed, they imagined this a first love, a beautiful but youthful thing. The rest of Dak’s life would begin when he was safely home, whether engaged or unattached. 

Dak’s mothers were in no way unfeeling in their assumptions. But they had not seen their son since he was barely more than a child and the war meant they could not be in as close communication as they desired. Lacking details, they filled in the holes in their knowledge of Dak’s life with memories of their own younger years, and both were ultimately glad to have left behind their first youthful experiments with romance, for how else would they have come to build this beautiful life and raise their four beautiful children, together? 

But Dak was not the only one whose future was being slowly constructed before him. After Endor, change was endemic. It would come, regardless, and better to build toward a bright vision together than let the harsh wear of entropy carve the path. The leaders of the Alliance began to speak of governance, of institutions to rebuild, of the soon-to-come day when soldiers and pilots would exchange their fatigues for scholar’s robes and farmer’s gloves. 

They began to ask: who will the Jedi be, now? 

This was a question of considerable and understandable concern to Luke and Ben. A new Order should rise, for the galaxy needed the Jedi - not as mysteries and not as warriors, but as teachers and guides for all of those who were Force Sensitive and had been afraid for too long. So few Jedi of the Old Republic had survived the Empire’s purge, and so few of the younger generations had escaped the notice of the Inquisitors. Even fewer had received anything like the proper Jedi training. 

It would be the work of generations, to rebuild and create a Jedi Order more flexible, tolerant, and open than its predecessor. And it would begin with Luke. 

Luke himself did not shy from this duty, but his uncle still felt some significant apprehension, a fear that Luke had not fully thought through how his personal hopes and his calling as a Jedi might, no, _must_ necessarily diverge.

And so, seven years ago, the war had come to a close and new responsibilities called to Luke, just as new opportunities opened themselves to Dak. It was then that Luke’s Uncle Ben had expressed a solemn, reluctant concern over the growing attachment and whether Lieutenant Ralter was prepared for the position Luke would soon find himself in — holding up the new Jedi Order on his shoulders. He would be looked to; he would be expected to be above reproach in all things; he would be scrutinized and in all areas he was found wanting, so too would the Order. Luke would not be free to follow many of his dearest inclinations and in turn neither would anyone who chose to walk at his side. It would be a sacrifice and one that Dak was perhaps not prepared to undertake, for though he might have passion and stubbornness on his side, the boy was young and ambitious and hungry for home.

The point was all the more convincing because Luke knew Ben bore Dak no personal animosity, had even admitted with a hint of wry smile that Lieutenant Ralter was good natured and a talented pilot, albeit reckless. And there were, of course, Dak’s mothers to think of, for Luke knew they missed their son dearly and awaited his return. 

The conversation had gnawed at Luke for months, casting a shadow of doubt over the sweet visions Dak would sometimes share, of the life they would build together, one day. They seemed suddenly vague, too divorced from the forming reality to come.

But for all Luke's growing uncertainty, he loved Dak, desperately and dizzily, with the kind of consuming desire he had once found rather embarrassing when it came up in stories. He would happily, given half a chance, spend hours connecting the faint freckles on Dak’s shoulders with smeared kisses — how wonderful and strange, that someone’s skin could be so endlessly fascinating, so deeply beloved — and his heart could not calm after a battle until he had Dak, breathing and still whole, in his arms once more.

Luke could not bear the thought that he might be the source of Dak's future unhappiness, but to end their relationship, breaking Dak’s heart and his own? That, too, seemed unthinkable. So instead, he did his best to probe circumspectly, to see if perhaps Dak’s dreams for the two of them might survive transformation by the more difficult truth to come. And yet, seeking to reassure himself, Luke succeeded only in the opposite. 

When Luke brought up the possibility of a new Temple, a life lived at the center of the New Republic, Dak listened but grew evasive. 

Until Luke began his questioning, he had not realized the deep, raw desire Dak had for a return to a different life, one defined not so much by heroics and grand ideals than by his own particular ambitions and affections. It was true, yes, that Luke saw how each day the war dragged on past Endor seemed to weigh on Dak’s shoulders, how Dak had returned from Coruscant with new scars and a tired blankness in his eyes. But Luke had not understood this: Dak could not deviate from his dream of eating breakfast with his mothers, swimming in the ocean with his sisters, taking out their catamaran with his brother, because it was the escape he had pinned his hopes to. 

Finally Luke could not ignore the truth. The life Dak wanted them to share was not a life Luke could choose. And if Luke asked Dak to, Dak would follow him instead, but it would not be gladly. 

So Luke had studied the angles and made the call.

He regretted it still. 

Luke had come to realize that for all that he had been left free to follow his vocation, for all that he was fiercely proud of the Temple and its inhabitants, his decision had not been the best one for his own heart.

But it was done and could not be taken back. How could it, when Luke had deeply hurt Dak, who well before any romantic overtures had been a dear friend? How, when Dak had, by all accounts, flourished without him? 

* * *

It was in the main hall of Avileen Memorial Library that the moment Dak had been both awaiting and dreading occurred. 

For well-raised Hosnians, a library was a place of reverence, solemn contemplation, and intellectual absorption. Auditory output was precisely regulated in the collections, liquids carefully kept away from the less hardy data files and certainly from the paper books, and any movement faster than a brisk stroll was to be undertaken only in the most absolute of academic emergencies. 

Dak, for all that he had seen a great deal of the galaxy between his years as a starfighter pilot and cartographer, was an Outer Rim native and thus some part of him remained easily overwhelmed by the grandeur of any urban architecture left undisturbed by Imperial occupation. He had spent a great deal of his leisure time in the past three weeks traversing the many libraries the University of Hosnia had to offer, and derived a great deal of pleasure from pulling from the stacks purely out of curiosity. This day gave no indication it would be any different. 

True, he had experienced some trepidation when a new consortium colleague, a native Hosnian only too pleased to share local knowledge, had pointed to a gaggle of adolescents and declared them to be young members of the reformed Jedi Order. But Dak had assured himself they had no reason to recognize him or presume his former connection. And indeed, what harm could there be if they did? Dak had earned his place in these halls and that was a matter of pride. He would not avoid the vast resources now at hand to make Luke more comfortable.

This resolution firmly in place, Dak departed from his seminar and entered the main hall of Avileen Library, thinking to continue his perusal of some especially interesting Old Republic maps. He was caught up reflecting on his seminar’s discussions and what time it would be at home if he waited until evening to call his mothers when something — no, someone — barreled into his shoulder, making Dak’s bag tumble to the marble floor.

“Sorry, sorry,” the young Twi’lek said, bobbing his head in contrition and scrambling to hand the assorted items that had spilled out of Dak’s satchel back. “Are you alright? Yes, you don’t feel hurt, that’s good. I really am sorry, only I’m late.” 

“It’s fine,” Dak replied, stowing his things once more, finding himself more amused than inconvenienced. Certainly, the boy had offered a somewhat strange apology, but furthermore, it was the first time he had seen someone blatantly breaking the rules of the library. The slight contrarian streak that had pushed Dak from the comfort of his childhood home to a hidden Rebel base couldn’t help but feel a natural affinity for the boy. 

“Padawan!” an green-robed Abenedo archivist said, coming up to them and grasping the boy by the shoulder. “I hope I haven’t just seen you _running_ and bumping into a patron. I believe we had a discussion about this.” 

“Please, Master Archivist,” the boy said, inching backward away from her. This seemed a foolhardy decision to Dak, given that the kid hardly seemed to have a sense of direction when facing forward. “You know you don’t have to call me padawan. No one really calls us that. And I did apologize.” He gestured to Dak. 

“He did,” Dak confirmed. 

“An apology would not have been necessary had you not been running,” the Master Archivist said dryly. “Children,” she muttered as a suspiciously amused aside to Dak, who could do nothing but nod. He had no better response at hand. No, he was too busy becoming suddenly aware of the rapid thrum of his heart and the escalating tension in his muscles. 

For at the moment, Luke appeared, walking in through the double doors, dressed in black and backlit by the setting orange sun. A perfect silhouette. Some children clumped around him and Luke tilted his head slightly, listening. It was a familiar gesture to Dak and all the more disconcerting for it; he recognized Luke and yet did not know him. 

“I trust I won’t find a trail of destruction —” the archivist was speaking, but Dak only heard it as buzzing background. The moment had come.

“Commander Skywalker,” the archivist said and this cut through Dak’s haze. Beside him, the archivist gave a bow of her head in Luke’s direction. 

Luke looked over and his eyes widened. In shifting, his face became visible. The same blue eyes, the same faded scars, but there were faint new lines around his eyes and mouth, a guardedness to his face that was unfamiliar. 

“Hi,” Dak said, as it was evident that Luke was too surprised to speak. 

The archivist turned her head, looking between them with some perplexity. Dak had the strong urge to scowl but nobly resisted. It could not be _so_ shocking that he knew Luke. 

“Hi,” Luke echoed back. He blinked, shook his head slightly and added politely, “Master Archivist.”

“It’s good as always to see you, sir,” the archivist replied. “Though it seems Senda could use a reminder on proper library etiquette. I do believe you could describe his rush as running. He up-ended this gentleperson’s bag.” She gestured to Dak. 

“I’m sorry,” Luke said, his blue eyes very wide and searching. 

Dak had imagined hearing that from Luke many times since they had last seen one another. He had never imagined quite this set of circumstances or the various adolescent players in the scene. 

“I apologized,” Senda said again, as Luke turned to him. 

Luke nodded at him and then looked back at Dak, still clearly flummoxed by the situation. This, at least, was an advantage. 

“It was fine. No harm done,” Dak said quickly. “I’ve seen worse damage.”

Luke laughed, but it was short and hoarse. “That’s true,” he agreed. 

“Luke? We’ll be late for _dinner_ ,” declared a human child, poking him in the arm, her face communicating that this would be a dire situation indeed. 

“Well, maybe you all could use a lesson in planning ahead, so we wouldn’t need to rush,” Luke said, crossing his arms and looking at the children. 

Dak nearly laughed himself then, shocked, but in deference to the large vaulted ceiling of the hall, turned it into a cough. Luke had always had a whirlwind quality to him and though Dak had seen him display an earned deliberateness at times, the Luke that Dak had known would hardly have been able to deliver a lecture on planning that would prompt chastised expressions.

“I’m sorry,” Luke repeated. “Ciro’s right though, we are running late.” 

“I won’t keep you,” the archivist said peaceably.

Luke’s eyes found Dak again, but Dak did not know what cue he was searching for. 

“Congratulations,” Luke said, his words coming out suddenly. “On the consortium. I heard about it.”

“Thank you,” Dak replied. How very strange it was, to be exchanging pleasantries as if they had been mere acquaintances. 

“Luke?” murmured a Nautolan student quietly. 

“Right,” Luke said, shoulders setting. “Master Archivist,” he said, dipping his head formally. He swallowed and did the same again to Dak. Then he turned on his heel and started to walk off, ringed by teenagers. 

“Did you bring the bike?” the human girl, Ciro, asked as the group trooped off in a loose formation.

“There are four of you,” Luke said, growing further away. “No, I didn’t bring the bike.”

“You should have. Senda could’ve run, since he’s so good at it,” said the Nautolan student. 

Senda elbowed her. 

“Let’s go before Master Archivist Evreen changes her mind and bans you all for life,” Luke said. Then he was gone, the double doors swinging shut behind the group. 

Luke was good with children. Dak had never had any reason to know that before.

* * *

Some weeks passed and Dak did not see Luke again. Of course, Republic City was a populous place, as Dak well knew. Indeed, it was the largest city Dak had ever properly resided in. Though he had spent his childhood one short boat ride from the capital of his homeplanet, had attended secondary school in that very city, it seemed to Dak that Republic City could have held his capital city in its cupped palms. It was not Coruscant, to be sure, for which Dak was grateful, as his impressions of that planet, although brief, had been unpleasant and violent. Still, Republic City was a place where seeing the same face more than once without intention was more notable than its opposite. 

So Dak concluded, it was not a surprise that he had not seen Luke since that first encounter and as the days wore by, his heightened awareness melted away. 

And that, of course, is when Dak saw Luke again. 

Dak’s request for a private carrel in the University of Hosnia’s libraries had finally been attended to and he had been given a small study room (though ‘room’ was a generous description; cell might have been a more appropriate word, for the desk was two-thirds the space) on the sea-facing side of the eighth floor of Avileen Library. The acquisition was well-timed, for Dak needed to prepare for his first presentation and the university apartment he had been put up in offered far too many options for distraction. 

That evening, satisfied that he had made good progress, Dak shut the door of his study room behind him and set off to thread his way through the stacks and back to the lifts. 

Only there was something blocking his way. There was a man sitting cross-legged in the aisle Dak was walking down. He was studying a data file he was holoprojecting from a wristband. Dak recognized him almost before he was conscious of it. There was the blond hair, curling slightly at the nape of his neck, the familiar curve of his shoulders in repose, the faint drawing in of his eyebrows that indicated concentration. 

It was _irritating_. Surely the library should have been counted as amongst Dak’s personal landscapes. For he was the student of the two, the burgeoning scholar. Surely his was the stronger claim to the territory! But then Dak shook his resentful thoughts away. Satisfying as it was, he could recognize that attempting to declare the library as his exclusive domain was neither logical nor a long-term solution. 

And neither, Dak realized, still staring at Luke’s bent head and feeling a fizzling disappointment growing in his gut, was depending upon the city’s size and bustle to simply keep them apart. No, that was only the same childish impulse as claiming the library for his own. Dak and Luke inhabited overlapping worlds, could still claim friends in common. One day, eventually, they would be thrown together and how much worse would such a meeting be, if they continued to be like perpetual near-strangers to one another, exchanging only starched, polite pleasantries? No, Dak found no delight in the prospect of such coldness. It would do no justice to the warmth of feeling that had once existed between them, to allow it to be overwritten in that way. They were no longer in love but they could never be unknown to another either; so Dak resolved, with a certain aching reluctance, they must learn to be something else. 

Dak had been starfighter pilot in one of the most decorated squadrons to serve in the war. He had not gotten where he was by shying away from action. Dak had made his resolution and now he would enact it. He squared his shoulders and marched down the aisle. 

“So do you live here, or something?” Dak asked. 

Luke looked up, evidently surprised. For half a moment, he said nothing, taking in Dak’s several bags. Dak had packed to ensure he would not need to leave the library once he ensconced himself for the afternoon and had, since then, acquired a whole stack of new datafiles. 

“Um,” Luke said. “Do _you_?”

Dak readjusted his grip on his bags. He was more flustered than he had expected and therefore annoyed. “I have a presentation to prepare for.”

Luke nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said. “Well. Looks like you have a lot to work with.” 

“Yeah,” Dak agreed. Then he shook his head. He had initiated this conversation with a specific intention and would not be distracted. “Look, if we’re going to keep bumping into each other, I think we should just be normal about it.” 

“Yeah,” Luke said, but then pressed his lips together thoughtfully.

“What?” Dak prompted.

“What’s ‘normal’ mean?” Luke asked, still looking up from his cross-legged position.

Dak sighed and slid to the floor, taking several moments to arrange himself and his variety of belongings just across from Luke. The aisle was tight enough that had he been any closer, their knees would surely have brushed. 

“I mean we could . . . be friendly,” Dak said. “We can do that, right?”

“Yeah, Dak,” Luke said. There was a softening in his eyes as he spoke. “We can definitely do that.” 

Dak nodded, feeling some strange combination of relief and trepidation wash over him. He had not expected to rebuffed — he might have held resentments but he had not entirely re-written his memories of who Luke was — but still the moment felt more significant than he had anticipated. 

“Good,” he finally replied. “Wanna hear about how annoying this Coruscanti guy in my Trade Route mapping workshop is?” 

Luke laughed, ducking his head down for a moment, and then nodded at Dak. “Sure,” he said.

* * *

Luke did not harbor high hopes for his renewed interactions with Dak, or perhaps more accurately, he did not allow himself to harbor such hopes, despite his own natural inclinations. Dak had always been a friendly soul and ready to offer a smile wherever it was needed, but Luke was certainly not Dak’s sole option for friendship and diversion. And however much Luke had missed Dak, he could not be the one to determine the pace, or indeed actuation of their potential reconciliation. Luke’s mistakes had sundered them from one another. The very least he now owed Dak was the freedom to decide if and when he wanted Luke’s company. 

So Luke received Dak’s suggestion of lunch together at a bustling, homey establishment some blocks from the University with surprise and pleasure, and not merely because he could not help but still like the sight of Dak and wish to have it when the opportunity presented itself. 

Though it was perhaps strange to say, for Luke spent his days surrounded by people and filled his hours with instruction, patient and sympathetic listening, and busy activity, Luke had in recent years found himself in want of friendly company. He was well-loved, certainly, had his aunt and uncles and sister all near at hand. Han and Chewie were all too happy to offer diversion when they were on-planet with Leia, for Republic City was not a town quite to their tastes (it was entirely too respectable and overly proud) and old friends did something to make the fit less uncomfortable. Lando, now a Senator in his own right, though one who preferred the beauties of Bespin to long-term residence on Hosnia, would sweep in from time to time when the Senate was in session and take Luke along as he prowled through restaurants and concert halls. Still, none of this could entirely counter the other days. The days when his fellow Jedi turned to him first as a mentor and only after as a man, and eyes followed him in the streets, equal parts curious and fearful of the power he could draw from, as easily now as breathing. 

Day to day, the problem was this: Luke was without peers and this was a far lonelier condition than the compliment ‘peerless’ ever expressed. 

When serving in the Rebellion, though Luke had never properly belonged to any squadron, for his Jedi training had taken precedent, he had still been treated like any other eager, bright-burning pilot by his fellow young idealists. He had found a special home with Rogue Squadron, for Wedge Antilles, commander of the group, had designated him a sort of honorary member from its beginnings. 

Luke missed the camaraderie of those days. Even if he could no longer expect to end the evening curled up to the curve of Dak’s shoulder, it was refreshing to be treated so forthrightly.

So when the unexpected invitation was extended, Luke had quickly agreed. And now, he walked into the small diner at the appointed hour.

“Over here,” Dak said, waving a hand once from a booth near the back of the diner. 

With cups of caf steaming between them, they began their halting conversation. 

“So, the consortium,” Luke said. “I hear it’s kind of a big deal, getting in.”

Dak’s cheeks did not betray any semblance of a blush but nevertheless his smile tucked in at the corners, like his pride and his discomfort with self-importance were at war. 

“That’s what I hear,” Dak agreed, his tone light. “It was my research team lead who suggested it. They would’ve taken him no questions if he’d even looked like he was going to _ask_ , but he said this whole Republic mapping venture we’re prepping for was a young person’s game. And I figured, you know, it’s not like I didn’t put my skin on the line for all this.” He waved vaguely to their surroundings and, presumably, the much larger New Republic. “I’d like to know what it looks like.” He pursed his lips in an achingly familiar gesture. “Like to help other people know, too.” 

Luke nodded, immediate. Dak might have lacked the fiery eloquence of Leia, but Luke recognized the same deep sincerity, the conviction. 

“That’s great, Dak,” Luke said softly over the clatter of the diner. “It’s important work. I can tell you love it.” 

Dak cracked his knuckles and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I mean I was so tired by the time I left the Fleet that I couldn’t really stomach the idea of going back to ships and piloting anymore. But I still don’t think I expected anything to feel as good as flying, you know?”

“Yeah,” Luke agreed with an emphatic nod. More than deflecting or detonating live charges, he missed near constant flight, for all that he did not in the least miss why it had been necessary. 

“But stellar cartography’s — it’s all the good parts of flying. Getting to be in space, all the stars. But it’s —” Dak paused, thoughtful in a way Luke suspected he must have grown into with age, “I think it can be about peace. Bringing places back to their people.” 

Luke felt an ache in his chest. Dak had grown so much, in the years Luke had not seen him. “That sounds like exactly what we need.”

The droid waiter arrived then, with their meals, overstuffed sandwiches accompanied with such a wide array of sauces and accoutrements that their plates were a veritable culinary cross section of the New Republic. For several long moments, everything was the clatter of table rearrangement and the urge to eat, for both Luke and Dak had active schedules and little compunction over silence falling between them, even after all these years. They had been to war together, where food was precious. But then, with some mingled amusement and embarrassment on both sides, the conversation was renewed.

“I’d ask how you’ve been,” Dak said, smiling slightly now, the one that was a precursor to a joke. “But I do watch the news, so… ”

Luke straightened up, sliding his forearms back to the edge of the table. “Funny,” Luke said, though he did not find it to be. 

“Sorry,” Dak said, brown eyes widening ever so slightly. “I guess it’s worse now.” 

Luke licked his lips. “I believe in the right to free press,” he said, sing-song. 

Dak laughed and it caused the edges of his eyes to crinkle. Luke wanted, desperately, to be sitting next to Dak rather than across from him, so he could trace his finger just there and lay a kiss on the vulnerable skin. He breathed the feeling out on his next exhale. 

“Did Leia make you practice that?” Dak asked.

“No, Leia would throttle half of them for focusing on all the wrong things if she could,” Luke reported, truthfully enough. “I just try to picture Chancellor Mothma’s disappointed face every time I have to answer questions.” 

“That’ll keep you honest,” Dak said. He tipped his head sideways and asked, “Do you like teaching?” 

As it had been a good day, one filled with little successes and breakthroughs and entirely without any tears shed, Luke was naturally inclined to answer in the affirmative. But he had also spent years training himself to weigh matters, so he paused for a moment of true assessment, then said, “Yeah, I do, most days. I'm not . . . . There's some people at the Temple who are naturals at it and I don't always see where people are getting stuck, not like they do. But I like it. There's so many of us, Force Sensitive people, and after the Empire,” Luke shrugged. “It feels needed.”

Dak's eyebrows drew in, an expression that always made him appear a far more ill-tempered man than his nature allowed. 

“But you like it?” he pressed again.

“Yeah,” Luke said, with some surprise. “I do.”

Dak traced a finger over the rim of his mug. “Just making sure,” he said. 

The lightness in his tone did not coincide with the mood Luke felt from him, but Luke could not deduce the root of Dak's emotion. This more than the rest was a source of melancholy. 

“The kids from the other day seemed to like you,” Dak said, continuing along, unheeding of Luke's scrutiny.

“Depends on the day,” Luke said with a smile. Though he was always glad to work alongside the other adults at the temple, helping them grow in their control and capabilities, there was a particular joy to watch the children, who had yet to presume their limitations, grasp something new. “They're good kids.”

It seemed a fitting transition to inquire about Dak's family then, after speaking of his own extended family of sorts.

“How are your mothers?” Luke asked. He looked down as he asked, stirring his caf with a spoon, to have some occupation for his hands. 

He had never met Dak’s mothers in person, but they had always greeted him with such warmth when Dak would pull him over as they called. They had sent as many packages to Dak and Luke alike as they could manage, packages filled with socks and new reading and little beautiful things. Beru had once said that they seemed like caring people and it had made Luke smile, to think of Dak’s easy childhood and the layer of comfort it insulated him in. To go to war required armor and Luke was glad that Dak’s came not from prior hardship but the lack of it. 

Dak’s smile immediately grew in warmth and sweetness at the question, for there was much devoted affection between his mothers and him. “They’re really good. And things on Alista have changed so much,” he reported, shaking his head with clear joy. “There’s so much more life, now. Mami’s working on this high speed transit system from the remote islands to Arden. She’s so excited about it. And Ammi’s still at the University. Knitting all sorts of stuff for Lina’s baby. Did you know that?” he asked, catching himself. “Lina had a baby.”

Luke shook his head, feeling again caught out by what he no longer knew. Though he had been less well acquainted with her, Luke remembered Dak’s older sister as a solid, guiding presence in Dak’s life, a solemn-faced and clever young woman determined to offer a steadying hand to all her younger siblings, even those who had run off to join the Rebellion. Frequently, Dak had measured his own actions by the presumed reactions of his sister, taking a certain mischievous glee in those activities that would have alarmed her and at other times lapsing into a gloomy disappointment in himself for failing to uphold her standards of conduct. 

“No, I didn’t know that. That’s wonderful! Do you have pictures?” Luke asked. 

“Do I have pictures?” Dak asked, leaning across the table, his brown eyes alight. “C’mon, of course I do!” 

After Luke had given all the appropriate compliments, which was easy enough to do, for Dak’s niece had all the characteristics that befit an adorable, beloved human baby, Dak sat back, fairly aglow with familial pride. 

Luke made his inquiries after Dak’s two younger siblings and was duly informed that Cam was taking advantage of the New Republic’s encouragement of free media and working for a holonews bureau in Arden, though Dak suspected her heart was still in more artistic projects. His baby brother, Jai, had finished university now, a fact that Dak shared with shock and a shake of the head. Although this fact had been true for some time now, Dak confessed it still surprised him, for he was still so used to thinking of his brother as the round-cheeked child with a stubborn brow he had left before the war. 

“How’s your family doing?” Dak asked now. “I mean, I guess I know what Leia’s been up to — kind of hard to miss. But your aunt and uncle? And, uh,” he added, somewhat belatedly, “General Kenobi?”

Luke did not dwell on Dak’s stumble. Because Ben had been his protector and teacher and near enough to an uncle since his childhood, Luke had never been cowed by Ben’s previous stature as a Jedi General. Dak, by contrast, had been raised on the stories of the Old Republic and had always found Ben to be a rather intimidating figure. 

“Busy. But doing really well,” Luke said. “I think Owen and Beru liked the challenge of getting the Temple set up and running.”

“They know how to get things done,” Dak agreed. 

“They do. I don’t know how the Temple would function without them,” Luke said, with a fond smile. 

Though Luke was quick to learn new Jedi skills, his ability to find and maintain property and capacity to manage resources for large groups of people were quite underdeveloped. As a result, he and Ben, who had grown up never having to much consider the logistics of communal Jedi life, relied a great deal on the firm and loving management of Owen and Beru to keep the Temple afloat. 

“It’s nice that they’re all here, at the Temple,” Dak said. 

Luke wondered if there was some wistfulness to that statement. Dak had spent so many years dreaming of returning home, only to depart again. Did he wish to still be amongst the comforts of home? For his own part, it was a subject Luke had given significant consideration, for he was well aware of his fortune and occasionally stabbed with the fear of a now-grown child that he had not properly expressed his gratitude. 

“Yeah, it feels like home, you know? Except with fewer sandstorms and dehydration deaths,” Luke said. 

Dak wrinkled his nose, a familiar response to Luke’s descriptions of Tatooine, and Luke laughed. 

Their conversation meandered through the rest of the meal, for Dak had questions about the Temple and living in Republic City (a city so near the sea and containing so little in the way of recreational boating distressed Dak’s island-born soul), and Luke had questions of his own about Dak’s travels and work. 

At last, though, Dak glanced at the chrono readout on the wall and startled. “I’m sorry, I should go. My whole Outer Rim Cartography seminar’s supposed to attend that Senate hearing on the new star system membership petitions.” He grimaced. “I’m guessing it’s better to get there early, with all the security. I should catch the tram.” 

Luke felt a clenching in his chest, more distressed than he had expected at the thought of their time together coming so quickly to an end. They had only just found themselves on truly friendly footing. He did not wish to see that over so soon. But here was an easy solution — Luke had his speeder bike, space for a passenger, and a permit to fly onto the Senate grounds as the family member of a Senator. Luke hastily proposed this alternate transport. 

Dak leaned sideways to look out the diner window, squinting. After a long moment, he asked, “Is yours the Dura 29-C?”

“That’s the one,” Luke agreed, with slight surprise. There were several bikes parked outside, for they were the most common form of personal transport in Republic City, a place dedicated to spatial economy. And yet Dak had so quickly identified which belonged to Luke. 

“Okay,” Dak nodded, face solemn but for the mischievous enthusiasm in his eyes. “A ride would be nice.”

“Were you going to say no if it wasn’t?” Luke asked. 

“No, that would be rude,” Dak said, though he was unable to maintain his serious facade, breaking out into a toothy grin. “But it’s definitely an incentive to say yes.” 

* * *

Dak realized quite quickly, as he slipped on the spare helmet Luke had stored away and slid onto the seat behind Luke, that he had made a severe miscalculation. The speeder bike was a handsome model, certainly, but equally handsome was the pilot and that was much more difficult to ignore when in such close proximity.

True, Dak had been struck by Luke’s first appearance in the library, but he had not expected the encounter and Luke’s features had been framed too auspiciously by the embracing light. It had been only natural to be affected by his old lover, under the circumstances. But Dak had been confident of his indifference in their following encounters. Luke was still attractive, yes, but after that first heady moment, Dak noticed instead where weariness and concern now weighed on Luke’s once fresh, youthful face. Luke was no longer the boy with the striking eyes and sweet smile who had made Dak’s pulse pick up when he glanced Dak’s way; therefore he could not command the same power over Dak’s heart. This was what Dak had sworn to himself. 

But now, just before him was the nape of Luke’s neck, where Dak might once have left a kiss; his waist, which Dak would once not have hesitated to slip his arms around; his shoulder, even now an invitation for Dak to slide in closer so he might rest his chin just there. 

Carefully Dak resisted the siren call of all of these, choosing instead to grip the passenger handles at the back of the bike to keep balance. For the closeness to the sweep of Luke’s back, waist, neck, however, there was no remedy. 

Dak willed himself to find some distraction from the appealing warmth of Luke’s body. Luke did Dak the favor of presenting him with just such a distraction far sooner than Dak suspected he would have managed on his own, by turning off a side street and heading away from the city center. 

“What’re you doing?” Dak asked, finding himself needing to lean in and clap his hands to Luke’s shoulders so that he would be close enough to be heard. “The Senate isn’t this way.”

Luke turned his head just a fraction and grinned, like it was nearly a decade ago and he was just about to pull off some piloting feat so unlikely it would make even Wedge, usually so self-possessed, whoop in glee. 

“Don’t worry, we’re just taking the scenic route,” Luke said. “The speed limit’s not so low this way. We’ll get you there on time.” 

Dak should perhaps have felt apprehension or the alleviation of it in response, but instead his stomach swooped, a pleasant freefall. They turned another corner and another and then burst out onto a wide trafficway, where the obsidian and chrome towers that dominated Republic City fell away to smaller structures. Beyond and between them were only rolling dunes and the shining sea, glinting with the reflection of the afternoon sun.

Luke sped up and Dak, despite himself, slid his hands to Luke’s waist and leaned closer, relishing the whip of the salted air against his cheeks. It was freeing, exhilarating, to see the city blur by and to feel so unanchored from his responsibilities, even if it would only be for the ride.

Alas, it had to come to an end and did, with Luke asking (nearly shouting over the rushing wind to be heard), “Ready to head in? The turn off for the Senate’s here!”

Dak nodded, trusting Luke to pick up on his acquiescence, as Luke readily did. The hurtling scenery slowed to a canter and then, too soon, they arrived. Luke paused in front of a security droid who performed a biometric scan and a vehicle scan, after peering at Dak’s invitation with some suspicion. Then they were waved through and the towering halls of the New Republic Senate, with their many windows and interspersed overhanging balconies, embraced them. Luke pulled to a stop near an entrance and Dak quickly dropped his hands away from Luke’s waist, as if he might belatedly make up for the familiarity of the touch.

Luke paid no mind, pulling off his helmet and grinning, his hair mussed like after a battle or — or any of the too rare nights they’d stolen for themselves during the war, to kiss promises onto each other’s skin. Despite Dak’s searing memories of the heartbreak Luke had left him to, despite his assurances to himself he would not waver from simple friendliness this time, to see Luke in such a manner and not ache with desire was beyond Dak. He was staring. He was certain of it and yet could not restrain the impulse. It was too present, too pressing. 

And certainly too obvious, for Dak could see the very moment Luke registered his expression.

Luke’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, just slightly. Enough for Dak to recall how easily, how unthinkingly, he had swooped in steal kisses from those softly parted lips, during those years when Dak had been certain that everything between them was good and true and lasting. 

Oh, but there was danger here. It had been folly bordering on hubris to assume that there would be no risk in this, that he had successfully flushed all of the affection he’d once held for Luke from his blood. But he would not travel down that path again. Loving Luke and being loved by him had been once an unparalleled sweetness in Dak’s life; the following heartache had been in exact proportion to that sweetness. Dak did not wish to know such pain a second time. Dak swung his leg over the bike and dismounted, forcing a laugh as he wiped his hands over his pants. 

“Should’ve known you would need some kind of outlet for those daredevil tendencies,” Dak said in a friendly tone, even as he attempted to calm the rapid beating of his heart. “Looks like you’ve gone with becoming the most dangerous speeder bike pilot in Republic City.” 

Luke blinked and seemed to come back to himself, with a rather abashed smile. “Yeah,” he agreed. “That’s me.” 

“Well. Thanks for the ride,” Dak said. He handed back the spare helmet. Though he itched to flee the field, it would not do to leave without a courteous good-bye. “I’ll, um, I’ll see you around?” 

Luke nodded, a certain wariness to his features, as if he perhaps doubted the sincerity of Dak’s offer. Dak meant it — their lunch had been a needed diversion from his rather insular society of university graduate students and fellow cartographers and, moreover, he suspected Luke did not have enough occasion to laugh either, a thought that troubled him — but he could not trust his will to hold out much longer against the exuberant urge to embrace Luke. So he retreated quickly into the Senate buildings, waving once, before the doors sealed behind him. 

As Dak slid into his seat in the Senate gallery, his thoughts grew less disordered. With some distance, he came to a conclusion: he could still befriend Luke again as planned, but his unruly feelings required a safer outlet. He would find some kind, obliging being to take to dinner and share some kisses with and then the danger would abate. 

* * *

It was distracting and not a little disorienting to recall the hungry look on Dak’s face, but Luke did his best to tuck the moment away, for it had been evident that was Dak’s preference. Dak might still like the look of Luke, but he did not wish to act on that partiality. And how could Luke fault that? After all, Luke had been the one to decide they could not last.

And yet thoughts of their long-ended relationship and the wayward hope Dak’s expression had given rise to occupied Luke’s mind, coming upon him with the least provocation and stealing Luke’s attention from everyday matters. One afternoon, struck by just such a spiral during a period he had intended to spend piecing together the remnants of some old Jedi Order educational data files, he emerged into the Temple’s main hall to find it far too quiet for lunch time. He wandered into the communal kitchen and dining space, coming upon Beru sorting through some food delivery bundles. 

“You missed lunch,” Beru said, looking up and pursing her lips. Owen and Beru valued punctuality, a virtue Luke tried earnestly to cultivate but never could seem to master. Ben, had he not been offplanet on a mission that seemed to be perpetually getting extended, would surely have followed up Beru’s observation by saying that the virtues of such a communal living set-up was that it was _communal_ and this was rather difficult to convey to others if Luke, the only other trained Jedi Knight of the bunch, tended to forget. 

“I’m sorry,” Luke said, with honest contrition. “I lost track of time. Couldn’t figure out how to fix the playback issue on the files. I might have to take them to Archivists, see what they can do.” 

“Alright. Sit down,” Beru said, relenting now and directing Luke to a stool at the long counter. “I saved you a plate.” 

“Thanks,” Luke murmured, as Beru took a plate of leftovers out of the conservator and set it down in front of him.

“Ekta cooked,” Beru said, speaking of the Mirialan wife of Rona, a Twilek fellow Rebel soldier who had come to find Luke near the end of the war, solemnly confiding that she had long believed they shared certain gifts. Ekta was a protege of sorts for Owen and Beru, for she had been operations officer in the Rebellion and could drive a hard bargain with suppliers. “We read everyone Ben’s letter.” 

Luke winced. When Ben was away, Luke was the anchor of the Temple. One missed meal was easily overlooked, but he regretted missing the cheers and commentary that came with shared letters from Ben. 

“Sorry,” he murmured. “I forgot that came in.” 

“Where’s your head these days, Luke?” Beru asked gently, shaking her head and sitting down next to him.

“It’s like I said, I just lost track of time,” Luke repeated. He was not lying per se, or so he told himself.

Beru reached out and stroked a workworn hand over his hair. “Really, though, what is it?” she pressed.

Luke’s aunt had been the very first confidante of his life and even now, when Luke was no longer the guileless boy he’d once been, the instinct to share and be heard and soothed was strong. “Did you know Dak’s here?” Luke asked softly, not quite ready to make eye contact. 

“Your sister mentioned something of the sort,” Beru replied, a knowing tone taking hold. “So, you’ve seen him? How’s he doing?” 

“He’s good,” Luke said, glad at least to share pleasant news. “He makes star maps now. He’s here for this consortium at the University. And his sister? His older sister, I mean. She had a baby.” 

Beru smiled gently. “It sounds like he’s been doing very well.”

“He has.” 

“It’s hard for you,” Beru said. 

“No,” Luke confessed, turning to Beru, unable to hide his distress, “that’s the problem! I thought it would hurt, to see him again, but we had lunch and it was. It was like we were friends again. It was wonderful. But it made me miss the way we were before.” 

“You should tell him that,” Beru counseled. She was a direct woman, raised by generations of forthright Freeholders. 

Luke shook his head. “I can’t. I was the one —” he clenched his hand around his fork. “I hurt him and I said it would be for the best and he’s _nice_ about it, but he’s still angry, I can tell. I don’t think,” this Luke hesitated to voice, for it was the most difficult thing to acknowledge, “he really trusts me very much anymore. I don't want to push him." 

Dak had been so blithely certain, once, that everything would resolve itself in their favor; no concern Luke had ever raised had shaken him, filled as he’d been with the incorruptible confidence of a young pilot who regularly defied the odds — the confidence of a young man in love for the first time. Then, it had left Luke feeling unmoored and yet responsible, the only one who truly saw the asteroid field ahead of them. None of Luke’s attempts to discuss the matter with Dak had prevailed, for when he wished, Dak was as talented at conversational evasive maneuvers as he was at their piloting equivalent. Then, Dak had been determined to let nothing, reality certainly included, pierce his dreams of their shared future. Now, Luke could only wish to see some fraction of that unthinking surety in their attachment from Dak. 

Beru sighed, resting a hand on Luke’s shoulder and rubbing there. Luke knew she had never entirely understood or approved of his decision to end his relationship with Dak, but she had accepted it without question or complaint. 

“Maybe so. I think you can ask to talk to him,” Beru advised. “Or you can be happy to have a friend back. That’s not such a bad thing.” 

It was not. Luke nodded to himself. He would not let his regrets sour what was certainly a gift. They would be friends. 

* * *

Luke kept to his resolve and in turn, Dak kept to his word — they were in frequent enough comm contact that they certainly could not be dismissed as mere acquaintances. One afternoon, not very long after their initial lunch, when they both found themselves released from obligations on the University campus, they met at one of the many cheery open air cafes that dotted the boulevards. 

They swapped stories of their days and of a dozen inconsequential things that had occurred in the years of their estrangement, so that Luke felt they had begun to know each other once more.

There was still a warming joy in making Dak laugh. It was no small thing. 

The late summer evenings in Republic City were long and balmy and filled with activity. Luke himself was required to depart, for the required communal meal of the day was dinner and he had promised to be on time. 

“What about you?” Luke asked, as they meandered down the street away from the cafe. “Any plans tonight?”

“Uh. Yeah, actually. I've got a date,” Dak said, hopping slightly on his next step.

“Oh,” Luke heard himself say. A heavy disappointment bloomed through his chest, threatening to rise to the surface, demanding to be spoken. But no, it would be unjust of him to express that. Dak had never been under the obligations Luke had chosen. And Luke, too, might have sought other companionship if he’d had the inclination. That he had not was not something to lay at Dak’s feet like a weapon. “Where are you going?”

“Some restaurant in Quillas Heights, near the old royal observatory,” Dak said. “One of my classmates recommended it.”

“That sounds nice,” Luke said. He could not quite meet Dak's eyes, but when he instead let his gaze rest on the walking path before them, and pulled himself towards the floating feeling of meditation or utter concentration, he could even offer, “You could go to the night market in Laifa Square after, maybe. There's lots of dessert stalls.”

“Yeah? Romantic enough, you think?” Dak asked. 

Luke pressed a hand softly against his sternum for a moment. The ache was a product of his mind, he knew, and yet felt no less real for that.

“I guess I never really, uh, thought about it that way. We go earlier on in the evening sometimes so the older kids can test their mental shielding. Or we'll send them off in different directions and make them find each other as fast as possible,” Luke said.

“Like a scavenger hunt?” Dak asked. There was such a brightness to his tone that Luke could not resist looking over. He was rewarded for his daring by the sight of Dak's brilliant, toothy grin. 

Glad though he was to see it, Luke did not believe the comparison warranted such an expression, and wrinkled his nose. He had never heard of such a concept until Dak had explained it to him once, years ago, and still failed to understand exactly why a series of created obstacles would be a source of childhood diversion. “I guess,” he offered, with some reluctance. 

“They're _fun_ ,” Dak insisted, turning so entirely towards Luke that he had to shuffle sideways.

He was leaning in and already far closer than the open path required. His eyes, bright and warm with laughter, were focused on Luke, inviting Luke to laugh as well. But all Luke could think of was that with a half step in, their arms would be brushing; their fingers might tangle. 

Rather than hold Dak’s gaze, Luke looked down. He wished to be generous but could only find the proximity unkind. Dak had made it evident that when it came to his romantic preferences, he did not count Luke as anything like a possibility. To smile at Luke and walk so close, with such comfort, could only be a temporary lapse in conduct, not a prelude to any greater affection. This was more difficult to respond to than the news that Dak would rather seek kisses and companionship from someone else. 

Luke slowed his pace, to widen the gap between them. 

“Well, I’m parked this way,” Luke said, nodding towards the lot. He meant to add some well wishes but in his heart, he did not wish for Dak's date to go well, and could not stomach the falsity of saying otherwise. It was not that he wished it to go _badly_ ; surely no one Dak was fond of could have a character that would warrant such a wish. But no, Luke could not wish for it to go well. In the end he managed a strangled, “Enjoy the restaurant,” before hurrying away.

* * *

As the fall ambled its way across the continent, Dak threw himself determinedly into his intensifying work and his dalliance with Avi, a handsome young Hosnian scientist. With dedication, Dak promised himself, it would not be long before Avi's dark hair supplanted any hints of once-adoring blue eyes in his half-remembered dreams.

Dak had not been looking for a sustained romantic relationship and neither had Avi, but they got along, and had shared interests, including a passion for swimming and an interest in undressing one another. It was less awkward than Dak had generally found dating and it was a somewhat successful guard against making any unwise decisions with regards to his tentatively renewed friendship with Luke.

Luke himself did not raise the topic of Dak's dating life at all after that one conversation. If anything, he seemed to do his utmost to avoid the topic entirely. It was a strangely irritating way of keeping the peace, but Dak followed his lead and did not inquire about Luke's own romantic entanglements and spoke of Avi only when previously agreed upon meetings with him precluded Dak's seeing Luke. In response, Luke would nod, or mumble something neutral and acquiescent, lapsing into his most formal self, the serious, quiet man who responded to the queries of senators and demands of generals.

It rankled Dak. It was as if the strongest emotion Luke could muster in the face of Dak's love life was some faint social discomfort. This, when they had once been so wildly in love, so eager to share every secret and to leave no inch of one another's skin untouched. However full Luke’s life was now, how could he not miss that? Surely Luke’s dedication to the Temple need not — could not — have entirely overwritten his eager embrace of affection. Knowing the passionate boy Luke had been, Dak found Luke’s current reserve difficult to bear.

Of the two of them, Luke had always been the one with the temper, but it was Dak who held grudges. And though they were sincerely friends once more, Luke's quiet avoidance of the topic could not help but stir up Dak's long simmering resentment over the abrupt end of their former romance. His current knowledge of the new Jedi, where so many cultivated and maintained their long-standing relations and connections only confused matters. Luke had decided, suddenly, that his calling required solitude. But _why?_ Dak pondered this more than was likely good for him. 

One morning, Dak managed to pierce Luke's armor with an offhand remark. Rushing in late to meet Luke at their now regular diner booth, Dak explained his tardiness by saying, "Sorry, I was running behind. I stayed over with Avi last night and it threw me off."

"Oh," Luke said. For one brief moment, his face flushed and his eyes went wide and hurt. It was the most overt reaction Dak had seen from him and Dak could not help but probe further, needing to confirm that the loss of what they might have been, what they ought to have been, was painful for Luke as well.

"Yeah, it was nice," Dak added. "He made dinner and we hung out and then, you know," Dak shrugged with an insinuating ease he did not feel, "it was, uh, late, so."

Though it was subtle and he was looking away, Luke visibly flinched at that. Dak felt a curl of satisfaction in his gut. Luke had so mastered mysterious, implacable expressions, that provoking such an evident emotion felt like a kind of victory to Dak. So Luke was not so unaffected as he appeared! He did not like to imagine Dak lying beside another person and exchanging kisses, anymore than Dak like imagining Luke doing the same. 

But then Luke swallowed and nodded, attempted a faint smile. 

Instantly, the triumph in Dak's chest evaporated, leaving only a cold awareness of his own unjust behavior. So he had hurt Luke. But to what end? His satisfaction curdled quickly and watching Luke attempt to cover over his lapse into visible melancholy only made Dak feel a terrible sadness himself. How had he gone from considering himself the fiercest defender of Luke's happiness to this? It reminded Dak too much of the end -- when he could feel Luke slipping away, bit by tiny bit, called away to a future coldly distant from the dreams they once shared.

Dak cleared his throat and quickly changed the subject. Though this rescued their shared breakfast, the discomfort and guilt he felt lingered throughout the day.

"Do you think I might just be dating Avi to make Luke feel bad?" Dak asked his roommate, Zel, that evening when they had both returned home that evening. 

Zel, too, had once served the Rebellion, as an artillery officer. While neither this fact nor her personality in general particularly recommended her as a dispenser of romantic advice, she was observant and frank to a fault. Dak could be certain however she responded, it would be with her true and reasoned opinion.

Zel looked up from her datapad and bowl of soup, wearing a considering expression. After a moment she nodded and said, "Yup. Seems plausible," before returning to her meal and her reading. 

It was Dak's turn to wince then. He did not like to think himself so careless with people, but perhaps he had been. It would not do to continue along this path. It was cruel to Luke and at best unfair to Avi. Dak would be more careful, more thoughtful now, he promised to himself. 

* * *

After Dak parted ways amicably enough with Avi, Luke and he resumed their previous unspoken detente when it came to their separate romantic entanglements. Luke maintained his silence regarding his own affections and Dak no longer had anything to share.

Instead, they spoke of safer topics, reminiscing about the antics of their fellow Rebel pilots, or sharing the travails of their days, or lapsing into contemplative, companionable silence over cups of tea or sitting side by side overlooking the sea. It was not so much that Dak had forgotten about this, but his memory was renewed: Luke was a good person to sit or walk alongside, for he had an eager thirst for interesting news or diverting stories, but also carried an unexpected well of quietness, moments when he would take on a distant air, dreamy or focused, depending on the circumstances of the day. 

Luke was this sort of quiet more often now than when Dak had known him before, or at least more than he had been when Dak was first learning him. After Cloud City, there had always been moments when Luke seemed to sink away, the shadows beneath his eyes deep and troubling. Now, though, Dak did not fear Luke’s silences so. They concerned him, yes, for he was certain Luke had taken the duty for which he was raised rather too much to heart (what other explanation could there be for the badly stifled shock and only slowly melting formality of Dak’s consortium friends at seeing Luke Skywalker wearing pedestrian clothes, joining them in a noodle shop?). 

But Dak no longer felt unmoored by Luke’s silences, no longer desperate to offer Luke some elusive, better form of comfort. The wounds of the soul that Vader (Dak did not share Luke’s grace in this and could never think of Vader as Luke’s father in anything but blood) and the Emperor had imparted on Luke had already healed, some time in the years they had been apart. To see Luke well, even if he’d had no hand in it, was welcome. 

What Dak could have a hand in, however, was offering Luke a social life outside of the Temple and the rarefied air of the Senate and its denizens. For all that Luke was alarmingly famous, he fit in well with Dak's university social circle, which was largely made up of other former Rebellion fighters, and though Luke was frequently tied up by Temple duties and New Republic responsibilities, he did call on Dak fairly regularly, and occasionally agree to some larger outing or the other. 

Just such an occasion arose as the final days of autumn heat turned his friends’ minds to the lapping waves of the coast just beyond Republic City. Luke had recently returned from a short trip offplanet with some students, to hunt down some rumored old Republic Jedi artifacts. He had left looking eager and hopeful. But when he met Dak at a small corner cafe near the Senate buildings upon his return, his whole countenance was weary and faded. 

“So, how was it?” Dak asked, though Luke’s expression did a fair job summarizing. 

Luke sighed and dropped his cheek onto his hand. “Nothing useful,” he said, grimacing. “Looks like a . . . ” a sharp disgust flitted across Luke’s face as he searched for the right word, “ _collector_ came calling just before the end of the war, offered the community supplies in exchange. They hid a few things, but none of the really valuable items — whoever bought the stash knew what it was all worth, better than any of the caretakers.” 

Dak nodded in real sympathy — finding pre-Empire sources for a great number of things was a challenge, when the Empire had been so enthusiastic about its destruction and manipulation of knowledge. Genuine artifacts from the old Jedi were especially rare, though items of dubious provenance circulated on the black market even now. 

“I’m sorry,” Dak said. 

He remembered well how much it had meant to Luke and General Kenobi any time they successfully recovered any remnant of the Jedi Order, any sign that they were not so alone or erased. 

Luke gave a tired smile and looked down at his steaming mug, blond hair falling across his face. “It sounds like half the planet was starving. They said the agro-shipping businesses just stopped coming when the Empire pulled out,” he shrugged. “I don’t think they had a choice except to sell.” 

Dak considered asking if there were leads on where the war profiteer had spirited the Jedi artifacts off to, but suspected that Luke needed a distraction far more than Dak needed the mystery closed. It was this thought that later lead Dak to extend the invitation for Luke to join his friends at the beach at the end of the week. 

It was not quite that Dak thought the beach would perk Luke up, but rather than he thought it might be enough extraneous mental stimulation to distract him from anything else, at least for a moment. When they were younger, Luke had confessed more than once to Dak that oceans had too much alive and poking at the boundaries of his awareness to be truly relaxing. Though Luke had dutifully learned to swim in the Rebellion's required survival skills course, he had regarded Dak's genuine passion for it with affectionate puzzlement. 

One rare afternoon, not long after the Rebellion's victory in Endor, Dak — giddy from another successful battle and good news from home — had coaxed Luke into the sea by Heron Base, saying it had been far too long since Dak, island-born as he was, had gotten to swim among real waves. For the few short hours they had stolen, Luke had lost the heaviness that had seemed to weigh upon him since his confrontation with the Emperor. Now, looking back, Dak could not say if it had been sea and all its whispers, or the bright sun overhead (or maybe, just maybe, the warm, salt-laced kisses they had shared) that had gotten through to Luke. But perhaps even a different ocean might still have an ameliorating effect. 

Luke blinked, seemingly caught off guard by the invitation. 

“You don’t have to, obviously,” Dak said playing with a napkin. Perhaps the invitation was too strange. After all, the beach had always been _his_ refuge, not the place Luke sought out. 

But then Luke exclaimed in a rush, “No!” He flushed a becoming pink and then added in a calmer tone, “I’d like that.” He nodded. “I like your friends.” 

If Dak felt unaccountably pleased, he chose to attribute that only to the satisfaction of helping an old friend. 

Now, there was only the matter of sharing this news when he met his university friends.

"So, food for four for the trip?" asked Adah, who had spearheaded the outing as a treat for her wife, Vreen.

"Uh, actually, Luke's gonna come along," Dak said. "So five."

"Really?" Vreen asked, grinning. "You invited Luke Skywalker to go to the beach with us?"

"Yeah," Dak said, shoulders drawing up. He did not care for the insinuating tone. "I thought you liked him."

Vreen's response was a cackle unfit for polite company. Adah swatted at her primly and said, "We do like him." 

"And I for one am enjoying the mental image of Luke Skywalker at the beach." Vreen grinned.

Dak's lips pursed instinctively but he managed only to say, "Don't get your hopes too high. He isn't a huge fan of sand. Guess nineteen years of it was enough."

"But he likes the beach?" Adah probed, evidently puzzled.

Dak shrugged uncomfortably, for he knew the truth of it and though Luke maintained a healthy awe of the ocean, awe was of course not the same as affection. "I guess he just decided he could use a break from the students," Dak said. It was not even a lie, Dak told himself. Luke needed some time away and seemed to recognize it.

"Well, I think it's cool he's coming," Zel said. 

Dak raised his eyebrows slightly. Zel had taken Luke in admirable stride, lifting her eyebrows very high for a millisecond when Luke first visited their apartment and then proceeding to treat him exactly as she treated most people — as mildly inconvenient at best, unless he was making her tea.

Zel shrugged. "He knows a lot about ballistics. I don't have to dumb down my lab work so much when I talk to him."

"Okay," Adah said, clapping her webbed hands together. "Weird contribution, Zel, as always. But sure, great, food for five."

* * *

The sun was bright overhead and the psychobabble of the sea just becoming familiar enough to become background noise when Luke discovered, quite inconveniently, that whatever notions he had harbored to the contrary, he had never actually recovered from his heady infatuation with Dak’s shoulders and the faint freckles that hid there. 

Luke had, in his own appraisal, handled Dak stripping down to his swimming bottoms admirably well, with barely a blush or pause in his conversation with Adah. 

But now Dak was coming out of the waves laughing, bare chested, and dripping, and the sight was as overpowering as being heatstruck, as disorienting — for a moment, everything alive, all those whispers in the Force, were nothing more than white noise.

There was only his own desire, and Dak. 

Dak, with his golden brown skin kissed by faint scars Luke still recognized, a hint of his hip bones just visible, his face so brightly lit by his smile that his eyes crinkled up at the corners. He was at once achingly familiar and enticingly unknown, the years they had been apart hinted at in the way his once wiry frame had filled out and in the unguarded manner in which he now held himself, his pilot’s vigilance overwritten by years of peacetime ease. 

Luke’s body urged him to stand and greet Dak with an embrace, to pull him into a kiss and lick into his hot mouth, to breathe in the sea salt scent that would linger by his ear and nuzzle there. It was like so many long-buried instincts coming alive, calling to him inexorably, his muscles all bound to respond. Luke was on the verge of rising to his feet, unthinking. 

Then Vreen came up behind Dak, swatted him on the arm, and made some good-natured heckling comment. The world reasserted itself. 

Luke swallowed and looked away, though the knowledge still lit up his veins. He wanted so badly to trace over the line of Dak’s lovely shoulders with his hands, to kiss away the rivulets of sea water dripping down his neck, to scrape his teeth lightly over Dak’s collarbones, just to hear the sharp intake of breath that had always followed. 

He should not have accepted this invitation — he’d known it was a danger, remembered exactly how spine tingling just pushing Dak’s flight suit down to his waist to kiss the newly revealed freckles on his shoulders had been. But he had been certain missing the chance to see Dak’s perennial delight in the ocean would be more difficult for his heart than the self control that would inevitably be required. Now, Luke was uncertain about that. To look and not touch Dak was agonizing. 

But into Luke’s fog of lust, a voice came and pierced it. 

“Alright?” Zel asked, raising one eyebrow and looking up from where she was laid out on her stomach doing some kind of word puzzle. 

“Hm?” Luke said, hoping he wasn’t too obvious. 

“You need water?” Zel asked, gesturing curtly. “You looked woozy.” 

Luke laughed briefly, shaking his head. Woozy was one word. “I’m fine. Just, uh, daydreaming I guess,” he offered aloud. 

Zel looked at him for a moment, eyes squinting suspiciously, then shrugged, returning to her puzzle and kicking up one foot in an uncharacteristically playful movement as she entered a correct answer.

Dak thumped down next to Luke then, too close for safety, his wet hair slicked back, and grinned. “Doing okay?” he asked. “You haven’t even gone into the water yet.”

Luke swallowed, pushed down the very dangerous urge to close the distance between them, and smiled back. “I’m good,” he said, feeling the sun’s warmth and the warmth of Dak’s body in equal measure. He was, he discovered, telling the truth. 

* * *

When he returned to the Temple the evening, Luke could still feel some giddiness lingering in his stomach — he was so unused to gorging himself on attraction these days and then today, he’d been treated to Dak, sun tanned and half dressed, for a whole afternoon. Luke knew he would hardly be able to concentrate for a proper meditation session or fall asleep right away like this, so after he had left his things and washed up in his living quarters, he headed to the administrative building, intending to expend some of his energy on work. 

When he reached the Temple’s office space, Ekta was at her desk, pouring through a set of holoprojected spreadsheets, while her wife, Rona lounged in nearby chair, perusing a data pad. When Luke entered, Rona looked up at him and then frowned slightly, as if puzzled by the familiar sight of him in their office. 

“Did it rain somewhere while you were out?” Ekta asked, blinking and refocusing on him. 

Luke ruffled his damp hair self consciously. “Uh, no. I was — at the beach.”

“ _You_ ,” Rona repeated skeptically, “were at the beach.” 

“It happens sometimes. The whole city’s on a coastline,” Luke mumbled.

“Uh, yeah, we go with the kids. But you hate sand!” Ekta said.

“I don’t _hate_ sand,” Luke protested. “I’ve just already dealt with enough of it for one lifetime.”

“You’re projecting weirdly,” Rona said, waving a hand in front of herself as if she were trying to dispel fog. “Like you’re happy but in a . . . a way you want to hide?” 

“Been working on the empathetic reading?” Luke asked. 

“You are deflecting!” Ekta exclaimed, her eyes going wide and altogether too intrigued. “Why don’t you want us to know?”

Luke sighed, turned his own desk chair to face Rona and Ekta, and sat down. Though he had continued to share with Beru (and occasionally Owen), about his increasingly frequent interactions with Dak, he had not done the same with many others at the Temple. Luke felt unprepared to raise the subject directly with his Uncle Ben, when he knew his own longing would betray him immediately, even if he did his best to assert that their renewed friendship was all Luke wanted. To share too much with his Temple associates while keeping the renewed intimacy from Ben felt dangerous. Rona and Ekta, however, were terribly persistent friends and longstanding ones as well, so they knew more than most. 

“I was out with Dak and his friends. It’s not a secret,” Luke said. “I just — I guess I’m still not ready to talk about what it means, yet. With Obi-Wan. That’s all.” 

Rona frowned, but nodded. 

Ekta sighed, sympathy and disapproval warring on her face. “I wish you would,” she said. “You’ve been seeing him a lot. If you’re going to keep seeing him a lot, you can’t keep him and the Temple totally separate.” 

“I know,” Luke said, suddenly weary. 

“Invite him along to something next time,” Rona suggested, swiveling back and forth. 

Luke raised his eyebrows slightly. Rona did not easily warm to outsiders and though Luke knew she and Ekta had once known Dak themselves, albeit in the bare and passing manner of officers whose postings had briefly overlapped, the invitation was a surprise.

Rona shrugged. “Maybe you’re not ready to talk to Obi-Wan yet, but there’s steps before that. One thing at a time, right?”

Ekta grinned and rested her chin on her hands. “You sounded so wise and teacherly just there,” she said in a teasing lilt to Rona. “Soon everyone’s gonna realize you’re not scary at all.” 

Rona clicked her tongue back, no heat at all behind it. 

“I’ll think about it,” Luke agreed, warmed and thoughtful. 

* * *

The days wore away, until Republic City was swathed in the winter rains, carried in by the cool sea wind. Over half a standard year had past since his stay in Republic City had begun, and Dak was finally beginning to feel acclimatized. Even beyond Zel, Adah, and Vreen, a number of his colleagues in the consortium could now be truthfully called friends, he had a favorite running path along the tree-lined boulevards of the University neighborhood, and could navigate the rather complicated tram system without second guessing himself most of the time. 

He was also beginning to feel rather more settled into his friendship with Luke. Dak had not been terribly successful at distracting himself from Luke's lovely eyes (he still went on an occasional hopeful date, yes, but there was simply no one who could capture his attention the way Luke had once — the way, sometimes, maybe too often, he still did), but with greater exposure, Dak had become almost accustomed once more to the magnetic pull he felt toward Luke. It was not so alarming, now. The sensation had become familiar once more, and was tempered, or at least changed, this second time, by the alterations the years lost between them had wrought. 

Even so, it was true that Dak still could not help but wonder about whether Luke had any hidden romance in his own life (or worse, perhaps, if Luke had simply become accustomed to a certain kind of loneliness), but Dak did not allow himself to make such dangerous inquiries. The equilibrium they had reached was precious and appreciated, because with it came a sustaining friendship. After the experience with Avi, Dak was careful not to upset the careful balance between them. 

They met with increasing frequency at various comfortable little eating spots in the University neighborhood, or occasionally by the city center, when Luke had business at the Senate. Being a Jedi Knight, Dak observed to Luke, seemed to involve a great deal of very slowly explaining to many people, repeatedly, that the new Jedi Order was not the Inquisitors and would be neither killing nor stealing anyone’s children. Luke had smiled wryly at him and offered that sometimes, it was telling people, no, the Old Republic Jedi hadn’t been _kidnappers_ , but yes, certainly there could be improvements to the system, like the ones currently in place at the Temple. They both laughed, but still, it worried Dak a little, how very visible Luke was these days. 

Other days, they met on the University campus proper, for Luke did not only frequent the libraries there in order to ferry children back and forth (or lie in wait to surprise unsuspecting patrons). He was, fitfully, conducting a number of research projects of his own, some of which had borne more fruit than others, over the years. 

“I guess there wasn’t much call to visit the First Temple, back when the Temple of Coruscant existed,” Luke shrugged. “Ben doesn’t think he remembers a single person ever going, or even looking for it, not that he knew of anyway. But I think, if we could just go back,” he gestured mysteriously, “we’d understand ourselves better.” 

“Well, you’ve narrowed it down a bit,” Dak offered, looking up from Luke’s rather idiosyncratic notes. “Sort of.” 

Luke had brought them to him some weeks ago, confessing that despite his attempts at cracking the historical and astrographic mystery, he had made little progress; perhaps Dak, with his professional expertise, could help him. Dak found he enjoyed the thought of sharing the things he had learned with Luke and showing how they might be applied. It was nice to have company in the library, for all that it meant Dak’s hard-won study room went unoccupied. (It could not have fit two adult humans sitting side-by-side and the methods by which they might both occupy the room did not bear thinking about, as that would only invite complications.) 

Luke grimaced, with some humor and a distinct air of contrition. “I’m better at navigating from a ship, I guess,” he said, shrugging. 

Dak grinned, for there was truth to the statement. Though Luke’s attempts at finding possible locations for the First Temple had not been entirely hopeless, they had been rather haphazard and spoke of a mind distracted by other concerns. He had left a number of threads dangling. 

“Well, luckily, you’ve got me,” Dak said. He had commandeered a meeting room for this particular venture, though it had become evident to Dak that Hosnians seemed to have little discomfort with close quarters and the room reflected that. Regardless, if Dak kept to business and did not allow himself to be distracted, it would serve his purpose this afternoon, which was to demonstrate that Dak’s own research into Luke’s conundrum had yielded some interesting results.

“I went back to some of the really old stuff from the Old Republic files — I mean things a couple hundred years back, far enough that the Empire wasn’t really looking into wiping them,” Dak said. “And I think I figured out what some of the references you’ve found are. Names change, obviously, and terminology. I was able to knock out some of the potential areas you pinpointed. And, after that,” Dak called up the star map, projecting over the walls and ceiling of the room, “I ran some other filters, based on historical projections of orbitals, stuff like that. And — see, so we can narrow the area to this now,” Dak said, adjusting the parameters and zooming in the map. The display above them adjusted, the projected stars flowing outward. 

Luke stood, looking up at the arc of the map, eyes wide and awed. “That’s incredible,” he murmured. 

Dak was warmed to his feet and shuffled to stand next to Luke, intending to continue his explanation. But Luke turned then, and Dak realized, with a wave of desire down his spine, how close they were standing. Luke’s breath was on his cheek. All it would take was for one of them lean in just the slightest bit and they would be kissing. Luke’s lips were parted and looked soft and inviting. 

It was foolish to pretend, foolish to deny them both this. This Dak’s body was certain of and for a moment, it was on the precipice of winning out over Dak’s more skeptical mind. For Luke’s eyes were so wide and blue and welcoming; it would be so easy to lean in, hear the little, sharp intake of breath Luke would take when first kissed. 

Only before Dak could act, Luke’s face flushed red and with a cough, he stepped back, stammering like a boy. “Feels like you’ve done more in a couple weeks than I have in a couple of years,” he said.

It was sensible, of course, to maintain the distance between them. Not to re-engage. But for a moment — Luke had not seemed _averse_ to their closeness. Dak should have been the one stepping away. After all, it was Luke who had ended things, crushing Dak’s heart and his dreams under his neatly turned heel. And yet Dak now found himself shoving his hands in pockets, clenching them against the sharp disappointment. 

But whatever wave of audacity had come over Dak, provoked by Luke’s closeness, was gone. He could not imagine stepping forward any longer, now that Luke had put a careful space between them. How could Dak extend any invitation, when he was now so uncertain of his welcome? What if Luke no longer regarded Dak with the same warm tenderness that had once lent Dak a sense of invulnerability? Losing that once had devastated Dak; twice was simply unthinkable. 

So Dak smiled tightly and shook his head, “Just picked up some skills that're helpful for this kind of thing.”

“Well, then, thanks for helping,” Luke said. He glanced down at his comm, displaying the time, and added, “I should probably get going.” 

“Back to the compound?” Dak asked, rallying himself. 

“Actually, no,” Luke said, breaking into a small smile. “One night a standard month, we leave the older students in charge of any of the younger kids here on their own, so the senior students and staff can get some time off.” 

“That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen,” Dak said, truthfully. Had he been an adolescent with telepathy, telekinesis, and free reign over a complex as lovely as the new Temple, he was certain he would have made a number of poor decisions. 

“Don’t worry, Owen and Beru are around. And some of the parents,” Luke laughed. “We’re trying to teach responsibility, not get arrested for neglect.” 

Dak pantomimed relief. “Then we can trust the Temple will still be standing when you get back,” he said. 

“A couple of us are meeting Leia for dinner,” Luke said slowly. “Do you want to come?”

Since coming to Hosnia, Dak had only seen Princess Leia from a distance on the Senate grounds, trailed by her staff. He was not sure they could ever have been called true friends, for Dak had never quite reached a true sense of ease or informality around Leia, between her being a princess and a commander and his then-boyfriend’s quite intimidating (possibly) older sister. But he had always maintained a certain fondness and admiration for her. It would be enjoyable to see her once again. Dak was uncertain, however, that he could sit by Luke’s side for a whole meal and continue to pretend that the barely elided kiss between them had never occurred. 

“I’m sure anywhere Leia eats needs reservations,” Dak said, pushing the decision out of his own hands.

“You’d be surprised, actually,” Luke said thoughtfully. “But anyway, it’s Leia. They’re not gonna mind if we have an extra person or two.” 

Dak considered. There had been few opportunities for him to observe Luke with his own friends and Temple-mates, for Luke got away infrequently when not on business of one kind or another, and Dak had never yet visited the Temple for himself. He was curious and wished to indulge his curiosity. 

“Alright,” Dak said. “Why not?” 

* * *

When they arrived (by tram, for Luke had thankfully not had possession of his bike), the restaurant was as nice as Dak might have expected. Not so high class as to make Dak’s apparel out of place, but certainly one of those institutions with the sort of standing that meant prior reservations were an absolute requirement. 

“Dak,” Leia said, rising, holding her hands out in greeting after an inscrutable glance at Luke. “How nice to see you.” 

“Ma’am,” Dak mumbled, taking her hands and ducking his head in the half-bow of his home planet. It seemed prudent to be more formal rather than less. 

It appeared to be the correct choice, as Leia laughed then and shook her head. “I don’t remember us being on such extremely polite terms,” she said. “Come on, sit down. Tell me how you’ve been doing. Antilles talks about you like a proud big brother.”

Dak slipped into the free seat at Leia’s side, as Luke sat at the end of the booth, ensconced between the two sides of the table. 

“Dak, do you remember Ekta and Rona?” Luke asked. “They were both stationed to Coruscant at the same time you were.” 

The two women in question were a Mirialan, whose cheek tattoos were cheerfully disrupted by a welcoming smile — this was Ekta, Dak recalled, dredging up the memory — and a saffron-skinned Twi’lek with a direct, appraising gaze, who must be Rona. They wore matching marriage necklaces, the gold softly catching the light. It was strange to match their calm demeanors to Dak’s memories of Coruscant, which were largely of confusion, disorder, and too-tight airspace.

“I — yeah, sort of. You, um, were in charge of the supply lines to the lower levels of the city,” Dak said, nodding at Ekta. 

“That’s me,” Ekta agreed, reaching for her wine glass. “But let’s talk about something more pleasant.” 

“Happily,” Dak agreed. “So. You’re a Jedi?” 

Ekta giggled, her cheek tattoos scrunching up to reflect her amusement, while Rona leaned in, her lekku slipping over her shoulders. She would not have looked out of place in the kind of crime den cantina that was so common on Luke’s homeworld. It was not her attire, for she wore an incongruously delicate dress, with some kind of fluttery material draped over her shoulders. It was a matter, instead, of demeanor. 

“No,” she said, raising a finger. “That would be me.”

There were times when Luke and Leia’s smiles were so alike that for all their differing features, it was impossible to miss that they were twins. This was exactly such a moment. 

Dak attempted to imagine Rona meditating and then immediately stopped. The mental puzzle was too much for his tired mind. 

Leia clapped her hands. “Shall we order?” she asked. 

Dak left it to Leia and Ekta’s clearly capable command and fell into conversation with Luke and Rona. After she and Ekta carefully outlined their orders, Leia turned her attention back to Dak and set him to unraveling the story of the last seven years of his life. She seemed to have an endless number of questions. As such, it took Dak some time before he noticed that Luke looking over the expanse of the restaurant. 

“Who are you looking for?” Rona asked. “We’re all here already.” 

“Hm?” Luke asked, his head snapping back to the table. 

Leia raised a single eyebrow, an arch of disdainful disbelief. It had only grown more potent in the years since Dak had last seen her in person. 

“Just a friend. She said she might stop by,” Luke said, abruptly making his behavior more of a mystery. “What?” he asked, making a face at Ekta, who wore a skeptical expression. “I have more than four friends.” 

“Not saying you don't. Just saying it's a big day when you actually go out to dinner with them,” Ekta responded. “Two extra friends in one night is an event. Though,” she allowed with a smile and a nod at Dak, “you’re not extra, of course. We already knew you.”

Dak smiled in return, but felt some disquiet. What she had said did not seem to accord with the perennially friendly boy pilot Dak had been so immediately taken with. In those days, Luke had seemed determined to befriend anyone the least bit inclined to welcome such an overture. Dak had sometimes wondered if, having been so often alone as a boy, Luke was trying to make up for it by making a friend of everyone. If Dak’s theory had been true once, this evening only confirmed what Dak had observed in the past months. Luke, for all that he was often around people, seemed not often to be _with_ them, any longer. 

Dak was distracted from this train of thought by Leia’s increasingly narrow-eyed gaze, thought it was thankful fixed on Luke rather than himself. 

“Is it —?” Leia began and Luke nodded. This, in any case, had not changed. They always seemed to have the ability to converse together with a fraction of the words it should have taken. Leia’s eyebrows drew together and though Dak might have withered after only a moment of the sharp scrutiny, Luke’s face remained pleasant and impassive. “Alright.” Leia finally smiled wryly. “I suppose I owe her a drink, for last time.” 

And then, as if sensing her cue, a redheaded human woman all in black emerged from behind some departing customers. Her gaze was targeted and assessing; the moment her eyes settled on Leia's table, she gave Luke a curt, two-fingered wave and Luke smiled back, motioning her over.

Dak shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Luke's friend was undeniably striking, with her bright hair and starkly evaluating eyes. She seemed not so much to walk as to stride, like the restaurant floor was territory to be conquered.

Leia studied the woman with a deepening frown. “She’s armed. In a restaurant known to be a regular gathering spot for Senators and their staff.”

Dak felt a shiver along his spine — Leia was right and Dak had not noticed. The woman had some kind of holster hidden away beneath her sharply cut jacket. It was subtle, but once noticed, unmistakable. Dak had been determined to fully embrace civilian life once more when he left his military position, but perhaps he had been too thorough. 

“It’s not _because_ of that,” Luke replied. “And you’re armed, too.” 

Dak, as the second of four siblings himself, recognized immediately that this tactic, while perhaps satisfying in the short term, was unlikely to win Luke the overall argument. 

Leia’s utterly unimpressed look confirmed Dak’s suspicions immediately. “A small, personal vibroblade is not exactly a hidden blaster,” Leia said. 

Dak wondered if the entire table, himself excepted, was armed. Upon reflection, this seemed entirely and distressingly possible. This dinner had become rather more exciting than Dak had anticipated or wished. 

“Senator,” the red haired woman said, coming upon their table. She was younger than Dak had presumed from her proud bearing. She and Dak might be roughly of age with one another. “I hope I’m not interrupting. Luke said to stop by if there was time.” 

“It’s good to see you,” Leia said, with remarkable graciousness, considering her barbed comments only moments before. “Though I am surprised you were allowed in with that blaster.” 

The woman smiled, with teeth. It reminded Dak more of a threat display than a show of cordiality. 

“Not everyone is as sharp as you,” she said, giving Leia a dip of her head. “But don’t look so concerned. I’m an honest businessperson these days. I just came directly from a meeting with the security firm that Karrde contracted for some of our more . . . sensitive deliveries. So much of negotiation is about presentation.”

This was not a statement that put Dak at ease, but the rest of the table seemed to accept this reasoning and the tension in Leia’s shoulders dissolved. 

And so then, the red haired woman raised her eyebrows at Luke as she sat across from him. Her eyes were lit with something that resembled mischief as she asked, “You didn’t wait to order?” 

“I never know when you’re actually going to keep a meeting, Mara,” Luke said, with an unrepentant shrug and a smile that entirely undercut the apparent coolness of his answer. 

“Someone’s gotta keep you on your toes,” Mara said. 

At this point, Dak had to admit to himself that he was jealous, though he was still uncertain of what exactly there was to be jealous of. 

He had never been resentful of other recipients of Luke’s smiles, for in their younger years the fact that Luke smiled so easily had only added to his appeal and now, it was always warming to see Luke’s serious expression become something softer. Yet, in this moment, Dak was covetous of the smile Luke was giving to Mara and could not ignore it. Dak was certain he knew that exact smile, had been the reason for it countless times, had done his best to draw it out with fond teasing and kisses to Luke’s cheeks. Dak had never before seen that smile directed toward anyone else and he did not enjoy the new experience. And yet, he could not be certain his concerns had any basis, for Luke’s friend was as inscrutable as Luke was open. There was fondness on Luke’s part, this was clear, but of what exact sort and whether it was returned in the particular way Dak feared, remained unclear. 

Dak was disturbed from his unhappy musings by Luke gently elbowing him and saying, “Introduce yourself.” 

Mara raised her eyebrows at him expectantly. 

“Dak Ralter,” Dak said, complying. 

Mara’s cool, impassive face showed no recognition, no sign that Luke had ever disclosed the intimate history he shared with Dak. This was both bruising and disconcerting, for it left Dak in the awkward position of finding some delicate way of summing up their relationship, at a moment when he felt particularly ill-equipped to do so. 

“I flew with Luke, during the war,” he settled on. Immediately, he felt he had veered too far in the impersonal with that explanation. Anything would have been inadequate, but this was particularly so. Indeed, Luke smiled rather quizzically at him. Leia turned her eyes towards him as well but Dak avoided her gaze. 

“Ah.” Mara said. “X-Wing jockey?”

“Yeah,” Dak said, somewhat startled. He had never reached anything near the renown that his commander and other members of Rogue who had stayed on for the transition to the New Republic Navy had, so it seemed unlikely that he would be recognized immediately upon introduction. “How did you know?”

“Lucky guess,” Mara said, with such a light air that it seemed to imply it had barely been a guess at all. “You’ve got the . . . attitude.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Also she’s heard stories.” 

Dak smiled tentatively at this. So Luke had spoken of him. This gave Dak something to hold onto and the conversation was not so halting nor so cool after that. 

To Dak’s mixed dismay and appreciation, he rather enjoyed Mara’s company. She was not charming like Ekta, nor was she was as discerning and amusingly cutting as Leia, and certainly she lacked the forthrightness of Rona. She managed to say remarkably little about herself, to insult a wide swath of people, and to make Luke laugh. She made no effort to make herself liked by Dak, but after that initial jab of indifference, she made no attempt to maintain her coldness either. 

At the end of their meal, as they walked out onto the street, Rona glanced once at Luke, rolled her shoulders and asked Mara, “Will you be coming by the Temple this visit? I know Luke’s invited you before.” 

“Nope,” Mara said, flashing a blade sharp smile. 

There was some strange weight behind the exchange, but Dak could not put his mind to deciphering the hidden meaning. He was distracted. Luke had not invited him to the Temple. Dak had not thought much of it until now — he perhaps had not wanted to see what had taken Luke away from him — but suddenly it bothered him. 

Ekta glanced at her wife and then took up the case. “Even if you’re passing through, you could sit in for some sessions. Even I do, sometimes, and I’m about as —” 

“I think I get enough preaching to just by seeing him,” Mara cut in, jerking her head towards Luke and glaring. “I’m doing fine.” 

Luke grimaced and held his hands up in defeat. But for all that, he was evidently not finished. “I’m not trying to _preach_. We’re just trying to help.” 

“By being condescending?” Mara asked, her tone very dry indeed. 

Dak prickled, but Luke only shrugged. “It’s an offer. You’re free to turn it down.” 

“And that is exactly what I'm doing,” Mara said with a certain barbed cheer. She looked hard at Leia, as if ready to challenge her next opponent, but Leia merely shook her head. 

“You've got other priorities. Trust me, I understand about that,” Leia said. 

Dak had by now deduced that they were speaking of Jedi business. Luke's deep frown in Leia's direction was enough to make Dak as close to certain as he could be. Luke had always wished his sister would train more concertedly with him, rather than treat General Kenobi's lessons as a secondary skill, to be cultivated where helpful, but only after her other duties had been fulfilled. Whatever high-minded complaints Luke had shared, Dak had always rather suspected Luke simply wanted a classmate and his long lost twin was of course his first choice. Something similar was at play here with Mara, though what her 'other priorities’ were, Dak had could not say. Intimidating shipping security firms was perhaps more consuming and invigorating than Dak had considered. 

In any case, Mara abruptly said her farewells and began to walk away.

“Just think about it!” Luke called down the street. “I’ve got something else I need to talk to you about anyway.” 

“You know how to reach my comm!” Mara said back, over her shoulder. 

After that, their party dispersed. Rona and Ekta went off to take full advantage of their wide open night and Leia departed to return to her Senatorial office, despite Luke's narrow-eyed expression.

“Oh, don't pretend you're any better,” she scoffed. “And don't you dare tell Han. I will _know_.”

“I wasn't gonna,” Luke replied in a decidedly sulky tone. 

He was almost certainly lying, but Leia still relented and folded him into a hug, squeezing his hand as she stepped away to duck into her speeder cab. 

Dak scratched at the back of his neck, feeling abruptly that he ought to call his own sisters and brother. He had not been as steadfast in his communication as he had indicated he would be. There were things about his life in Republic City he did not yet wish to expose to that special sort of sardonic judgment only his siblings were capable of. 

For the moment, Dak turned his mind back to the present.

“So. Mara. Are you sure you and her are _friends_?” Dak asked, raising his eyebrows. In truth he did not know what answer he hoped for. “Kinda seems like you just have a talent for pissing each other off.”

“Yeah, of course, we’re friends,” Luke asked, some surprise coloring his words. “I mean. She’s . . . prickly. But she’s got her reasons.” 

Dak scuffed the pavement as they walked. “Okay,” he said. He stuck his hands in pockets, rolled his shoulders and asked, “So, what else do you want to do with your one night of freedom?”

Luke bit his lip, a terribly distracting movement, and then said quickly, “There's a place around the corner that does hot cocoa?”

Dak laughed and agreed without hesitation. “Lead the way,” he said. If Dak harbored some secret satisfaction that it was he who was to share this treasured treat of Luke’s with him, he did not reproach himself for it. Luke was his friend and what brought him joy naturally extended some pleasure to Dak as well. (If there was some satisfaction in having Luke entirely to himself again, Dak did not allow himself to dwell on it.)

* * *

About two weeks later, as the weather took a teasing turn towards the prospect of spring, Dak found himself once again in Luke's company and with an invitation to extend.

“Some of us from the consortium, we’re going up to Sandy Point and taking out a catamaran next week,” Dak said quickly. “Would you want to come?” 

Dak had always intended to bring Luke home to Alista and take him out on the water, for Dak had grown up loving the ocean, daily crossing the strait between his home island and Arden, the capital island, delighting in the turquoise waves. Dak had been determined to move Luke past his prejudiced stance that oceans were hardly meant for humans, had been utterly certain that all that would be necessary was for Luke to see the waters of his homeworld. Luke, out of affection, had been willing to imagine he might one day be swayed, and, when the mood struck, to add his own hopeful embellishments to Dak’s dream of a shared future home on the shore. 

Luke tipped his face sideways and gave a small, brilliant smile of amusement, but then rapidly, his face fell. “I’m off-planet next week,” he said and the remorse was clear in his tone. “I’m headed out the day after tomorrow.” 

“Why?” Dak asked. He could not deny that he was disappointed. He had so long hoped to share this with Luke and though it was a far different circumstance and a faraway place, it might have satisfied some part of the unfulfilled longing Dak had been left with when Luke left their romance behind. (Or perhaps it would soothe the newer, or rather renewed yearning he sometimes felt now.) “Jedi business?”

Luke sighed and his lips turned down. “Sort of?” he said. 

Dak raised his eyebrows and motioned invitingly with a hand. Unanswered questions made him impatient and only inclined to dig further. This made him sharper than his amiable nature might otherwise have allowed. It was also, or so Wedge had wearily informed Dak when he felt inclined to scold, an impediment to Dak ever rising much beyond his lieutenancy. 

Dak had not especially minded that, though he did not lack for ambition. He was, however, an optimist and had determined that the war would end and he would leave the necessary but temporary strictures of rank behind. That he had been proven correct, and then later awarded a degree he credited to his single-minded tendency to pursue answers, had only reinforced his sense of self-assurance. But Luke’s answer prompted an immediate pang of regret — that he had asked and that he was in no position to ask anything further. 

“I can’t tell,” Luke said, mouth tightening in an expression of contrition. “It’s a Republic mission,” he murmured, under his breath.

Dak swallowed. He wanted suddenly to say ridiculous things, to tell Luke, “Take me with you. Let me watch your back,” because when they had been at war, at least that had been possible, to keep Luke’s X-Wing in his sight. Even wanting to say such a thing was absurd. But it was there nevertheless, a long-neglected instinct born of a terrible desperation he had not experienced in years. 

“Oh,” Dak said. “Is it . . .” Dangerous, perhaps, he meant to finish. But he knew this was an amateur’s question. 

“Don’t worry,” Luke said and perhaps he read what Dak left unasked, because he added, “I’ll have plenty of back-up. I’ll be home in a standard week, tops.” 

Dak managed a weak smile and an even weaker quip. “Because missions with you are never known to go weird.” 

“It’s not on purpose!” Luke protested, with slightly more vigor than required, as if he too wanted to smooth the moment away by recalling the circular teasing and denial they had so often engaged in. 

It helped momentarily, but when it came time to part, Dak found himself at a loss. He did not want Luke to leave and yet he was loath to say so. Dak recognized it was unjust, perhaps, but he resented Luke for being about to leave him with so little forewarning. Conversely, he wanted but could not quite manage to censure himself for harboring the desperate desire to wrap Luke up and hide him away somewhere soft and warm and welcoming, where he would be far from any danger. This was not moving on and this was not displaying friendly concern. It was both unwise and irritatingly accurate to Hobbie’s predictions of what would happen when he pursued a renewed association with Luke. 

And yet, all of Dak’s disordered feelings and contradictory impulses fell away before the fact that Luke was about to leave, off to do something dangerous and secret, and he might not return. 

“I don’t think I’ll see you before you leave,” Dak said, fingers twisted together. “I’m leading a workshop tomorrow and then I have class.” 

“You’ll be great,” Luke said, focusing on more trivial aspect of Dak’s comment. Purposefully, Dak guessed. 

It was a friendly gesture but it could not distract Dak. He stepped forward and gripped Luke in a fierce hug, the kind of embrace that required the length of their chests be pressed together and for the strength of Dak's arms to pull Luke yet closer. Luke's hair was pressed against Dak's cheek and he could feel Luke's chest rise with a first startled breath in and then fall with a soft exhalation that relaxed his muscles as he hugged back.

“Don't do anything too dumb,” Dak mumbled, slipping one hand up and down Luke’s shoulder blade, a soothing gesture he had just enough presence of mind to know was more for himself than for Luke. 

Still Luke’s fingers gripped into his back, as if perhaps he needed the reassurance as well. “I’ll try not to,” he agreed. 

Perhaps Dak should have pulled back then, especially as the urge to turn his face and nuzzle Luke’s jaw was beginning to form in the back of his mind, but he held on and Luke did as well. For all that it had been years since they’d embraced like this, there was no discomfort, only a sense of deep, warm familiarity, as if their bodies still instinctively knew how to do this, had only been waiting for the chance to hold one another again.

How unjust, Dak thought, that he should have this realization when he would not see, much less touch, Luke again for some indefinite period of time. He pressed his cheek against Luke's for a moment.

Somewhere behind them, a person yelled down the street at a passing tram, their running footsteps thumping as they chased the tram down. Dak and Luke both startled and the moment was broken. 

Dak wanted to take Luke's hand and lead him back to Dak's too small bedroom, so they might curl up together and kiss, slowly peel off one another’s clothes, make love, and then fall asleep with their naked limbs tangled. 

As if he had picked up on Dak's train of thought, Luke bit his lip and for just a moment, his eyes lingered soft and inviting on Dak's shoulders, as if he might reach out and caress them the way he had been so fond of doing. Dak felt a frision of heat in his belly. But Luke only gave him a soft, private smile and said once more, “Don't worry. I'll be back before you know it.” 

* * *

“Mission objective is detain and capture,” Captain Azeen said, looking at them both with hard eyes. “I’d rather not have any death on this mission, on any side. This is a law enforcement mission.” 

The explanation was gratuitous, for Luke and Mara had both attended the mission briefing alongside Azeen and xer squad. When younger, Luke might have rankled at the implication that he required such specific reinforcement of commands, but today he only nodded. He was less than certain it would be possible to bring in the two Inquisitors who had, it seemed, hidden themselves away on Raxon IV, without death in some form. But such deep adherence to the law was to be respected for someone in Azeen’s position. And Luke did not wish for the kind of violence he anticipated; if he could avoid it, so much the better. 

Mara though, narrowed her eyes. She did not appreciate questioning, which was unfortunate, for she faced it often and particularly from Republic officers. Luke was not without sympathy for both sides. It was a difficult thing for a Republic officer to accept without reservation someone who had worn an Imperial badge for so long as a comrade. Yet Mara’s childhood and youth were the very darkness Luke’s family had done everything to keep him from. In her, he saw some mirror inversion of himself and the wounds he might have carried, if the Inquisitors had found and taken him. (Part of him knew it would not have been the same for him, Anakin Skywalker’s child, but that did not bear consideration.) 

Nevertheless, today, faced with the brewing argument between Mara and Azeen, Luke simply felt prematurely tired. They had only just landed on Raxon IV and were settling in for what might in fact be a far longer period of surveillance than he might have preferred. 

“From your tone, Captain, I’d almost guess you aren’t happy to have us here,” Mara said, giving a sharp, unpleasant smile. 

“You’re too close to the issue,” Azeen said baldly. “Both of you. That doesn’t predispose you to smart choices.” 

“And yet we’re the only people here who’re anywhere near prepared to face an Inquisitor,” Mara said, the venom entirely in her tone. Then, simple and cold, “You shouldn’t underestimate the Force.” 

The scales on Azeen’s neck rippled. “I don’t plan to.” 

Luke held up a pacifying hand. “We want this mission to go well, too,” he said. “You don’t need to worry about that.” 

Mara shot him a displeased look but then rolled her shoulders and nodded. “Don’t think of it as being too close,” she told Azeen. “Just think of it as extra motivation.” 

Azeen’s eyes slowly tracked between then, as if rather short of convinced, but then xe nodded back. 

A truce of any kind was fortunate, for the mission dragged out longer than Luke had hoped. Nine straight days of sitting and watching a house, even one that two former Jedi-hunters called home, was not the most invigorating of occupations and friendly company helped alleviate the burden. 

On the other hand, Luke reflected mid-afternoon on day nine, it could also lead to further annoyance. 

“You’re terrible at sitting still,” Mara said without looking at him, when Luke rearranged himself. 

“No, I’m not,” he said, even knowing it might have been wiser to stay quiet. “My foot was just going dead.” 

“Wanna play a game?” 

Luke narrowed his eyes at her, suspicious not by nature but because he had been taken in by such invitations once too often, when they inevitably lead to points either obscene, disturbing, or personally embarrassing. Occasionally and memorably all those adjectives had applied.

“Okay,” Luke said, nevertheless. (Though he could never have been called the most consistent of people, he did not easily back down from apparent challenges.) 

To Luke's relief, the game Mara proposed was a simple one, a word game that was diverting enough, until it became abruptly clear that it had merely been intended as a distraction. For part way through their game, rather than offer her next response, Mara said, “You’re friends with your ex-boyfriend now?”

Luke turned and looked at her with dismay, for he had thought enough time had passed that she was unlikely to raise the topic. Though she was happy to make a mockery of him in many ways, she rarely pried far into his personal relationships due to her strong protectiveness of her own privacy. There was fair play in that and not in this.

“Mara,” he said reprovingly, though without much hope.

“It's just interesting,” she shrugged. “Insight into what makes you tick.”

“It's not that weird,” Luke protested. He was being too contrary, for he did not wish to discuss his relationship with Dak so frankly when things between felt so delicate, on the threshold between friendship and (Luke hoped, desperately) a potentially renewed romance. Even a few weeks prior, he might not have harbored such overtly self-acknowledged dreams, but their parting, the way Dak had seemed so reluctant to give Luke back up to the world after their fierce, intimate embrace had loosed all the remaining careful guards on Luke’s emotions.

“Did I express an opinion on that?” Mara asked. “ _I_ don't care. Like I said, it's just interesting. It explains some things.”

Luke naturally wondered what those things were, but felt it would be safer not to ask. (He suspected, of course. Even when they were circling each other, weapons out and teeth bared, Luke had been drawn to her, had thought her beautiful, irritating, fascinating. He was certain she had known that from the beginning. But acting on that fascination, even speaking of it, would have required letting go of something he could not. Mara demanded full measures in everything and Luke had given away half his heart when he was barely more than a boy.)

Mara looked at him, narrow-eyed, and then said idly, eyes back on the house across the street, “He thinks we're fucking. Or he thinks we _might_ be and it bothers him. You should probably tell him we aren't, since you're obviously interested in re-starting . . . something. With him.”

Luke choked on his own breath. There were, altogether, far too many things that required a response in that but finally his brain settled on, “Did you read his mind?” 

It was unjust, perhaps, to fixate on that when of course Luke read people's minds as well (he didn't especially like it — it had never been a skill that came naturally and moreover, it was messy, both ethically and mentally), but it offered a way to react beyond spluttering. And this was Dak. Luke could not countenance the thought of his friend reaching into Dak's mind.

Mara pursed her lips in disapproval. “No. I don't do that,” she said shortly. “And anyway, with the squadron he flew in, he'd have the training to know if I had.”

This was true, on both counts. Luke's high tide temper immediately fell and remorse set in.

“Sorry,” he said. “I know you wouldn't.”

Mara raised an eyebrow at him and then remarked dryly, “He just has very obvious facial expressions, you idiot.”

Luke felt that _I think you’re having sex and it upsets me_ was probably too specific a thought to have an immediately recognizable corresponding facial expression, but then again, based on personal experience, he figured the reading was contextual. (He had, unfortunately, witnessed various aspects of Leia and Han’s relationship that he would rather not have, though given their penchant for public arguments, everyone in the Rebellion could say the same.) And it was true that Dak had never been good at hiding his reactions. Luke knew that but — but it had seemed all too possible that he was simply seeing what he wished to. 

But if Mara saw it too — then there must be truth to it. 

“Yeah,” Luke agreed, belated and too soft, “he’s always worn his heart on his sleeve.” 

Mara gagged. But then, in the same instant, her muscles tensed, becoming alert. Without thinking or doubting, Luke focused on the house and sure enough — one of the Inquisitors was exiting. 

“We have movement,” Mara barked into her comm.

* * *

Dak missed Luke. He hadn’t even been gone two weeks and yet, there it was: Dak missed him. He ought to have been well used to the sensation, considering the way their relationship had ended, and yet this separation was its own fresh ache. Even back when they’d only just shared their first shy, delighted kisses (they’d been so _young_ ), Dak had been able to send and receive letters, even call sometimes, when they were in different places. 

He had saved every one of Luke’s letters, the very picture of a sentimental teenager in the throes of first love, never mind that he’d also been experiencing combat and terror and violence like he had not known to imagine. After Luke had broken his heart, Dak had nearly deleted all the letters in burning anger but some small, farseeing part of him had furtively backed up the copies to a datadisc before he’d indulged. He was grateful for that, now.

Because now Dak was outside the loop of knowledge, with no way to contact Luke, and it was making him twitchy. If he could not have Luke beside him, if he could not have even Luke’s holoimage or an update, at least he had Luke’s words. They were the words of a youth unpracticed in the art of love letters, more factual and forthright than poetic, but they were sincere and true and they were something for Dak to hold onto. 

Once, Luke had missed Dak, too. Dak had that.

And he had Luke’s sister. Dak was rather surprised to receive a comm from Leia, but answered with alacrity. His mothers would never forgive him ignoring a princess-turned-commander-turned-Senator. 

After a warm enough exchange of pleasantries, Leia revealed her reason for calling. 

“You should come to dinner at Owen and Beru's tomorrow,” Leia declared imperiously.

“Uh,” Dak said. He was not practiced at disagreeing with Leia, as for many years it had been a requirement of his position that he follow her orders. This put him at a disadvantage, for Leia had a character that, if one wished to decline one of her strongly suggested offers, required that she be met with conviction, force of will, or previous experience in such refusal. In this particular instance, Dak had none of these on his side, for his wish to avoid the proffered invitation had no particular strength to it, only a wish to avoid awkwardness and a sense that first time he entered the Lars’ household on Hosnia, it ought to be Luke bringing him, holding his hand. 

“No, don’t say no,” Leia continued, “I’m sure you wouldn’t mind an alternative to student cooking, and I could use the company. Usually my parents come — we have this dinner once a month, but I’m afraid they’re on Jedha at the moment. And of course Luke’s not here. Han tries, but Owen’s never quite warmed to him. It does help to have a buffer.” 

This speech had not exactly made the invitation more appealing but Dak could not see any benefit in saying so. 

“They wouldn’t mind?” Dak still asked. It would not do to impose when he very much wanted Owen and Beru’s good will. He had plans, or at least he had hopes, for what he might do when Luke returned. 

“Why would they?” Leia asked. “They always liked you.”

Though it was not in the least subtle, Dak smiled at this. Still, he paused. “Will Master Kenobi be there?” he asked. 

General Kenobi had always rather alarmed Dak. He had never been entirely at his ease around the man, for Dak could not help but feel _studied_ by him, and this was intimidating from a legend of the old Republic. 

“Hmm, oh, no, Obi-Wan’s with my parents,” Leia said, sounding rather distracted. “The summit.”

“Right,” Dak agreed with some relief. “Well. If Owen and Beru don’t mind.” 

Leia asserted once more than they would not and moreover, she would consider it a help. Thus, it was decided. 

Dak arrived at the Temple punctually and with a gift. (He would have preferred to consult Luke on what an appropriate gift would be after such a long interval in his acquaintance with the Larses, but had done his best with a hurried holo call to his mothers instead. They had, naturally, bombarded him with questions regarding how this set of circumstances had come about, but it could not be helped. They were at least kinder in their prying than his sisters would have been. And Dak did wish to have more to reveal _when_ — it had to be when — Luke returned.) 

Gripping the flower pot, Dak rolled his shoulders. There was no sign yet of Leia or Han, but they were family and could be forgiven some tardiness. With a deep breath in, Dak crossed the threshold of the Temple courtyard. 

It was a beautiful place. The courtyard was laid with dark volcanic rock, with garden boxes carved out and overspilling with vegetables and flowers. At the center was a young tree, its slight branches swaying in the sea breeze, blue-green leaves fluttering and somehow almost luminous. Dak paused in front of it, smiling slightly. He recalled the odd and unnecessarily dangerous mission Luke and Shara Bey had gallivanted off on to recover this tree. 

Around the courtyard rose the connected buildings, with their clean, linked terraces — the communal areas and classrooms on the lower levels and, rising up above them, the living areas. The faded sounds of people going about their evenings — children being called for, the din of cooking — floated down into the courtyard, mixing with the low, lonely call of the night-flying birds. Dak could imagine Luke walking through the buildings, sitting cross-legged at the edge of the tree’s garden box. It felt a bit like being let in on a secret. 

Dak had the urge to linger, while the courtyard was empty and his to observe, but he wanted a few moments of his own with Owen and Beru, since Leia and Han had still had not made their appearance. So he made his way up to their living quarters and knocked. The door slid open and standing in the doorway was Owen Lars, a few years more lined but solid and reassuringly familiar all the same. 

“Come in,” Owen said, gruffly gesturing.

It still did not feel quite correct to enter the Temple for the first time without Luke, but Dak smiled and crossed the threshold. 

“Leia, dear, is that you?” Beru called from further inside the apartment. 

“No, ma’am,” Dak responded. 

“It’s the Ralter boy,” Owen announced, leading Dak into the small dining area.

Beru looked up from where she’d been rearranging items on the table and smiled. “And you brought a gift. How sweet.” 

The plant was carefully placed in the living area, joining some compatriots by a window. 

“Look at you,” Beru said, reaching out to hold Dak by the arms and study him. “It’s so good to finally see you.”

Dak basked in the warm affection of her gaze. He had always liked the Larses. He’d suspected his Ammi especially would have gotten on well with Beru, for they had kindred characters. In another life, they might have been dear friends, tied together by their children. (Perhaps, perhaps they might still be, one day.)

“I’m glad to see you, too.” 

Owen nodded. “Too bad Luke isn’t here,” he says, a comment entirely unvarnished. Their elders in the Rebellion had often commented on how uncannily Luke reminded them of his father, the Jedi General, but Dak had always felt Luke’s uncalculated directness came from being loved and protected and taught by Owen, who lived by frankness as a kind of blood rule.

“Will he . . .” Dak swallowed. “Will he be back soon, do you think?”

Beru’s smile went tight and her eyes were softly sympathetic. “I’m afraid we don’t know that. But we certainly hope so.” 

Dak nodded. 

“Sit down,” Beru encouraged. “Tell us what you’ve been doing!” 

And so Dak did. It was lovely to be in a family’s well-loved home after months in student living and, before that, a year on a mid-sized vessel not designed with human comfort as a primary concern. 

In due time, Leia and Han arrived — somewhat after the appointed hour for dinner, but then one could hardly expect Leia’s responsibilities to respect the need for punctuality in personal appointments. 

Dak observed that Leia had spoken the truth when it came to Owen and Han. There was some faint disapproval in Owen's brow as he regarded Han, though Han was an honest businessman these days, albeit one still handling shipping for things with a strong tendency to explode, corrode, or otherwise cause damage. 

Nevertheless, the dinner was proceeding in a pleasant enough fashion when Leia suddenly tipped her head sideways, expression drawing into a faint frown of concentration, and muttered, “Huh,” under her breath. 

Han gave her a curious upward tilt of the chin, which was really what tipped Dak off that Leia was sensing . . . something, anyway. But Leia merely smiled slightly and shook her head, proving that despite her claims to the contrary, she did have something of the Jedi mystique, which seemed largely to involve being (unduly, in Dak’s opinion) mysterious. 

So despite what, in retrospect, was a hint, Dak was entirely surprised when, near the end of dinner, feet came tramping up the outside stairs, the door to Owen and Beru’s quarters opened, and Luke announced, “Uncle Owen, Aunt Beru, I’m ba—” 

At this point, he rounded the corner into the dining area and said instead, “Oh,” eyes widening slightly when he saw Dak. 

Dak waved, feeling a slight flush at the back of his neck and hoping it was not so deep as to be visible. Luke’s hair was ruffled, like he had just come in from a speeder ride, which probably he had, and for once his collar wasn’t done up entirely, revealing the base of his throat and just the faintest hint of his collarbone. It would, Dak thought mournfully, have been nice to have the sight to himself rather than having it thrown upon him without warning while dining with Luke’s family. 

When he finally paid attention once more to the conversation, Luke was by the table, saying to Leia, “You know, you could have told me.”

“I hope you don’t need a warning about family dinner,” Beru said, gentle but rather chiding. 

“No, Aunt Beru,” Luke said, mouth softening to a smile. He leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I would’ve just cleaned up, I guess.” 

“Clean up now," Owen said, "and sit down."

Luke did as he was told and smiled, when Dak knocked his knee gently against Luke's beneath the table. 

"Everything go okay?" Dak asked, quiet, below the buzz of the table's conversation.

"Yeah," Luke said. "Everything's good."

* * *

In the three weeks following Luke’s return, Dak found himself often with Luke, and not, he thought (or at least hoped), entirely due to his own eagerness. Luke seemed brightly pleased every time Dak proposed lunch together and had come by Dak’s study space in the library, unprompted and carrying illicit caffeinated beverages, more than once. 

There was not, unfortunately, any reasonable way by which to repeat their almost kiss or even initiate a hug quite so intimate or prolonged as the one they had shared before Luke’s department. Often they were in public, and while that would hardly have stopped Dak from leaning over and kissing Luke _before_ , he was far warier now. Luke was undeniably a figure of interest and for all that Republic City prided itself on its admirable indifference to matters as petty as fame, Dak found he wanted the moment to be private, and the library was not quite . . . romantic enough a setting for Dak to declare anew his affections.

But that was indeed what Dak hoped to do. Even such a short absence had made it evident indeed to Dak that he did not want to be long apart from Luke again, and if that were required, he wanted the certainty that Luke was aware of his regard and his worry. 

And he wanted to take Luke out on a _date_. They had never been on a proper date, really. 

They had fallen in love while at war and had known each other's wounds and tears as well as they had known one another's hands. It bound them together, still, but Dak wanted this second courtship to be a proper one. Every simple joy that could not have been before, in the hopes of building something that could endure through peace. 

Victory Day, the much celebrated anniversary of the battle of Endor, was just around the corner and Adah and Vreen were throwing a party at their beautiful Lalit Heights house, high enough in the hills that the shimmering sea could be seen from the airy roof. When they invited Dak, Adah and Vreen had leaned in and said, grinning, that it would be quite a private affair, and that Dak should feel free to invite _any_ sort of guest, for no one would be surprised or ask any unwanted questions. 

The hint was not in the least subtle and yet it was a promising one. It would be, Dak decided, an opportune moment. 

* * *

Victory Day was fast approaching and Luke could feel the unease that always accompanied the date climbing up the rungs of his spine. Preparations for the festivities were making themselves known in the streets of Republic City. As the New Republic capital, Hosnia prided itself on marking the anniversary of Endor with particular cheer. 

Luke wished, sometimes, that he could join the festivities with any ease. But for him, it was a difficult day, always, for it marked the anniversary of his father's death. And who was there left to mourn the man but himself and Obi Wan? So few knew the truth and fewer were able to feel any true sorrow over the man Anakin Skywalker was and might have been. 

Many years, Luke left Hosnian Prime, or buried himself in Temple activities. Being alone, he had learned, did not help. Though he could not quite share the joy that others felt on the day, being pressed around by an inaccessible gaiety was still preferable to sinking into his own all too easily found melancholy.

Still, Luke's instinct was to surprise and some small twinge of apprehension when Dak said, tracing a finger over the rim of his water glass with an offhandedness the tension in his shoulders did not corroborate, “So, Adah and Vreen are having a Victory Day party and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me? They live out in Lalit Heights. The view’s amazing.” 

“Oh,” Luke said, shifting in his seat, feeling a prickle of discomfort between his shoulder blades. Then he caught himself and stilled. He was accustomed to maintaining a certain control over himself, inculcated from years of training, though the instinct of it had only truly settled into his bones during the waning years of the war. Once he had learned the truth and understood better his expected part in the story. 

Dak’s eyes narrowed slightly and he leaned in, wearing a faintly nervous smile. “No pressure. No one would be weird about you being there, though. Adah and Vreen think you’re great. And a lot of their friends were with the Alliance, too. You’d probably know a lot of people.” 

Luke shook his head quickly. “No, I’m sure — I’m sure it’ll be great,” he said quickly and that was truthful enough, for he had found those of Dak’s friends he had been introduced to amiable and discreet individuals. “It’s just . . . a weird time of year for me,” he said.

Dak frowned down at the table and nodded. Then he met Luke’s eyes with sorrow. “I’m sorry. I know how terrible that battle was for you.” His eyes flitted to Luke’s shoulders and his mouth settled into a hard, unhappy line. “I guess — I guess I was hoping maybe Victory Day meant you had some better associations with the date, now. Or at least it might get your mind off things.” 

Luke could not help the surge of warmth he felt, looking at Dak, for all that it was lined with something sharper and closer to longing. From the way Dak was studying him, Luke was certain Dak was thinking now of the lightening scars on Luke’s back. Dak had been the first person to see them and had promptly marched Luke off to medical, though by then the physical pain had past — it had both moved and worried Luke, how horrified afresh Dak was by every wound Luke or any of his friends sustained. But for all that, his presence was always reassuring, and had been especially so that day. Dak could not mourn Darth Vader’s death, not truly, but he had sat and held Luke’s hand in the med bay while Luke had told the doctors what had happened, or at least a version of it.

“I’d get it, if you didn’t want to go,” Dak said, softly. “But maybe we could still hang out? Since we’re both around.”

Luke smiled and grabbed out for Dak’s hand and squeezed once, quickly, before he came to his senses and retreated quickly from his overly bold foray into intimacy. (Before Luke could allow himself to slip once more into the easy physical affection that once been such a comfort for them both, they needed to speak with one another truthfully, about what future there might be for the two of them, together.) 

“No, I’d like to go,” Luke said quickly. “It’d be nice. To do something normal.”

Dak grinned, his habitual sunniness at once returned. 

For as much foreboding as Luke felt with the approach of Victory Day, how could he ever any request, much less once he was inclined to assent to regardless, when confronted with that smile? Luke had done far more foolish things for the sake of Dak’s bright smile, before, and it seemed he had not yet lost the habit. 

* * *

The house was, as promised, lovely, and the view from the verandah and from the roof even lovelier. The coastline was alight with fireworks and music spilled out from open windows all along the winding street. 

Luke did indeed recognize a number of the laughing, bohemian guests and their well-earned battle scars. Their cheery inebriation pulsed and swirled at the edge of his mental shielding like an oncoming migraine. Dak gripped his elbow, gently, and Luke realized he had been listing sideways, though he’d had imbibed nothing intoxicating.

“Alright?” Dak asked, leaning in to be heard above the hubbub.

Luke wished to shake his head and dispel the feeling, so he might lean against Dak’s warm side and maybe kiss Dak’s ear, or run his fingers through Dak’s hair, which had already begun to slip away from his careful styling, from the heat and closeness of the room. 

But he could not make himself, for as much as he wanted to. It had already been a long day. The children at the Temple understood that Victory Day was a somber day for Luke and Obi-Wan. But still, for them, it was a day of freedom and joyous celebration, for the lives they lead were certainly a direct result of the Empire’s end. Even more than most days, the Temple had been filled with running and shouting and crowds moving in and out. Even before coming to the party, Luke had felt pulled thin. 

“Maybe some air,” Luke said, with a stiff smile. 

Dak nodded and followed, letting Luke tow him by the wrist out of the house and down the front stairs. Luke didn’t know where he was headed. He only knew that he longed for some quiet and stillness, where his grief would not feel so violently out of place. 

“I shouldn’t have asked you to come,” Dak said, his eyebrows heavy with remorse. 

“Oh, Dak, no,” Luke said, coming to a stop beside a tram stop bench within easy sight of the house and the line of speeders surrounding it. He sat down heavily. “I wanted to come. I like your friends.” 

Dak nodded and sat beside Luke, but then grimaced wryly down at his folded hands. “But maybe it wasn’t the distraction you needed, huh? I know,” he paused, biting his lip, “I know it was different for you. Endor, I mean.” 

“I mean, I do have _some_ good memories from Endor,” Luke countered, mustering something approaching a real smile, thinking of Leia whirling around the fire and pilots dancing with Ewoks and Dak’s sweet, sleepy kisses that night, when they had finally collapsed into bed. 

Dak smiled back, an equally faint thing, and said, “Well. That’s good.” Then he knit his fingers together. “It’s still hard for you, huh?” 

Luke let out a breath and closed his eyes, feeling a rapid upsurge in the tide of grief he had worked so hard all day to allow for, without letting it overpower him. There was a certain kind of absurdity to the way he could walk through whole hours at a time, carrying the gnawing sensation of his mourning in his chest, yet still completing all the mundane tasks of the day. Life went on, and people celebrated, justly and correctly; there was no room for Luke’s grief and yet it persisted, welled up whenever it spotted some vulnerable opening and bided its time through the rest of the day. 

“Yes,” Luke choked out. “It is.” He could feel the imminent tears by the ache in the back of his throat before they spilled. 

* * *

Dak had never fully understood how it was Luke could extend such tenderness and compassion to a man who had decimated the Jedi Order, who had commanded and personally overseen so much destruction, who had, even knowingly, hurt Luke and Leia. But Dak’s mothers had chosen him and his siblings and raised them with infinite love and patience, so he knew well that family was also a matter of deciding to care. And Luke had done exactly that with his father, against all logic. That he was capable of such was something that continued to both frighten and awe Dak. 

But regardless of Dak’s sense of whether Darth Vader deserved for anyone to mourn him, he could not leave Luke to cry and offer no comfort. 

“Luke,” Dak said softly, for Luke had turned his face away, as if that would be sufficient to mask the way he was swiping at his cheeks. “Can I give you a hug?”

Luke turned back to look at Dak, his eyes wide and uncertain. “If,” he said, hesitating, then simply nodding. “Please,” he mumbled. 

Dak opened his arms and Luke tucked himself against Dak’s chest, face pressed warmly to Dak’s neck. Despite the occasion, Dak’s heart could not help but pick up at the closeness. Dak traced a gentle, steady path up and down Luke's spine with one hand and slowly, Luke’s hiccuping breath began to even. 

“Thanks,” Luke whispered, his lips brushing against the skin of Dak’s neck, sending a shiver down his spine, despite the warmth of the day. “This is nice.” Luke shifted slightly, settling himself closer. 

Dak’s whole rib cage seemed to ache with tenderness, like even his bones could not help but be glad to have Luke so close once more, to be the one who could comfort Luke. Impulsively, Dak pressed a kiss to the top of Luke’s head. It was what he would have done, years ago, though perhaps it was too quick, too presumptuous — 

But then Dak felt Luke’s lips curve up, into what Dak felt could only be a smile. It felt right, to sit like this, so intertwined. 

“I missed this,” Luke said, in a quiet but steady undertone. 

Dak immediately longed to assure Luke that he need never miss Dak’s embrace any longer, that Dak intended to hold him whenever he wished, for the rest of their lives. But then, that had been Dak’s intention before, too. 

“Luke,” Dak began. He swallowed, pushing down his galloping nerves, and continued his slow pattern of sweeping his hand up and down Luke’s back. “Why did we break up?”

Luke startled in Dak’s arms, drawing back. Dak felt the loss immediately. 

“Sorry,” Dak said, heart thundering. “I know now’s not the time to ask, but —” he took a gasping breath in. “I keep thinking about it. A lot, since I’ve been here. We were good together, weren’t we?” 

Luke’s expression was stricken. “Dak,” he said and reached out, until his hand was caressing Dak’s cheek. “We were great together.” 

Dak turned his head, just enough to lean into Luke’s touch. Then he steeled himself and asked, “So what happened?” 

* * *

Luke dropped his hand from Dak’s cheek, reluctantly, for some part of him feared that he would not be afforded that indulgence again. But this was Dak, and Luke had put off this conversation for far too long as it was. 

He took a deep breath in, attempting to force his thoughts into some order. 

“I guess, at the time —” No, this wasn’t the correct start, Luke thought, shaking his head. He started again. “You needed to go home, and I didn’t know how to tell you I couldn’t come with you.” 

Dak’s eyes were dark and hurt, and it made Luke feel as if some great weight were being pressed over his sternum. 

“So you broke up with me?” Dak asked. 

“Obi-Wan and I, we talked about what we planned to do, after the war. Rebuilding the Order. We knew people would be scrutinizing us. He was,” Luke set his jaw, unsure how best to express himself. “Worried, I guess. That you might not be ready for that.”

Dak was frowning heavily down, eyebrows drawn in, and Luke could feel his emotions roiling beneath the surface. He wanted nothing more than to reach out to Dak, but he had to finish. Dak deserved that. 

“I knew what I was willing to do, to rebuild, but, Dak, I saw you, at the end of the war. I couldn’t ask you to come with me. I didn’t want to be the reason you were unhappy!” Luke cried out. “You were so _worn down_ , and you talked about going home like it was the only thing that was keeping you going. I couldn’t take that away from you, and I couldn’t go with you, not without giving up what I needed to do. I thought it was the right thing to do.”

Dak bit his lip and now, Luke saw, there were tears in his eyes as well. “I thought,” he said and then broke off. “It just felt like you left me. But we were still in love, even at the end.” It was a statement, at least, for which Luke felt a rush of gratitude, but it was a plea for confirmation as well. 

"Yeah, Dak, I swear. It was never because I stopped loving you. You were the brightest part of my life," Luke said, feeling an ache of helplessness. "When I didn't know who I was anymore, I knew I loved you and," Luke swallowed and could only manage a whisper, "that you loved me.”

Dak reached out, tentative, but taking Luke’s hand in his own. He pressed the back of Luke’s hand to his mouth, not kissing, but holding it there for a long moment, as though he was seeking comfort. 

“I did need to go home,” Dak admitted, letting their joined hands drop to his lap. “I don’t think I even realized how much until I got there. And it was hard at first, adjusting. But I needed it. I didn’t know how unhappy I’d been until I had so much to be happy about again.” He looked down at their hands. “I just wished we’d talked more.” Dak looked up now, and Luke met his gaze. “I didn’t talk to you enough.” 

Luke shook his head, though even he was uncertain what he was denying. “I wish I could have come with you. But I had to — I knew I meant to rebuild. I didn’t know how to pick anything else.” It had always been difficult for Luke to express, the way the Force called to him, a choice that was also no choice at all because it was already running through him, as surely as the blood in his veins. 

Dak gave a slight, wistful smile. “I always knew who you were, Luke.” 

"I didn’t stop caring, though. I still thought about you. After," Luke said. He was certain this could hardly be a surprise to Dak, but it still came out as a confession. "There were always things that reminded me of you, even years later. Things I wanted to share with you."

"You never called, though. I mean, all that time. Didn't you ever want to talk to me?" Dak asked, sneaking a glance at Luke. "I wanted to talk to you all the time, even when I was angry."

"I did. So much," Luke said, squeezing Dak's hand. "I almost wrote to you. I started to, so many times. But then I'd hear about how well you were doing, how happy you were to be home or at school. To see your mothers again. You were doing all the things you said you were going to do, after the war.” 

"I still missed you," Dak murmured, his hand curling in Luke's. 

"I missed you too," Luke said, urgent, for he was all too aware that his future happiness — and he thought, Dak’s well — hung on his clarity now. "All the time. I’m sorry I never called, or wrote. I’m sorry I didn’t try harder."

A silence fell between them, which the sound of the surrounding relevery filled. Luke, for all his training, all his years of meditation, was filled with agitation. He would not push Dak, but how dearly he waited on Dak’s response!

* * *

During the great bitterness that followed their break-up, Dak had thought hearing that Luke was miserable as well would help, but knowing the truth of how reluctantly Luke had relinquished their relationship, how often he had thought of Dak as well, only made Dak grieve, now. How many years had passed, when they might have shared as many embraces as they desired, if only his pride or Luke’s fears had not kept them from reaching out! 

But the past could not be undone and they were here and now and had been given another opportunity. However much this evening had diverged from Dak’s imaginings, it had only reinforced his intentions. They had been too long apart. But Dak could fix that, now. 

“Me, too,” Dak said, simply. “I’m sorry, too. I should have reached out. I thought about it, too.” 

Luke smiled, tremulously, and pressed his free hand to Dak’s cheek once more, stroking his thumb over Dak’s cheekbone. The touch was tenderly familiar. Luke did not speak but Dak felt he understood Luke nevertheless. 

“You wanna get out of here?” Dak asked.

Luke took a breath in and nodded. 

They made their way back towards Luke’s parked speeder bike, still holding hands. 

“You okay to fly this thing?” Dak asked.

Luke looked at him sideways and gave him a lopsided smile. “You’re just angling to fly it yourself,” he said.

Dak laughed, feeling a wave of warm relief at the realization that he could do so, after this night. “Well, it is a really nice bike.”

“I know, that’s why I got it,” Luke said, slotting on his helmet. 

Once Dak got on behind him, Luke hesitated for a moment. “Should I drop you off?” he asked quietly. 

“No, it’s okay,” Dak said. He did not want to leave Luke to make his way home alone. For all that they had both been overwhelmed by emotion, Dak could not forget that this was a difficult day for Luke. “Just head back to the temple and I’ve got it from there.” 

“Are you sure?” Luke asked, a probing note to his voice. 

“Yeah,” Dak assured him, winding his arms around Luke’s waist. 

They flew down to the winding roads back into the heart of the city and then onwards, making their way over to far, quiet neighborhood where the Temple was. Dak kept his arms wrapped tightly around Luke’s waist, resting his chin on Luke’s shoulder, until they pulled into the Temple courtyard. 

Luke slipped his helmet off and Dak did the same, hitting the button to fold it up and slipping it into its usual side compartment. Luke had made no attempt to disembark and so Dak stayed still as well, still straddling the bike behind Luke. 

“Do you —” Luke paused. “Do you wanna come in with me?” Luke finished, voice soft as a caressing breeze. 

“Honey, I think we both just need to sleep,” Dak murmured into Luke’s shoulder, though he slipped his arms back around Luke’s waist and squeezed, in some approximation of a hug. 

Luke nodded. Dak felt the brush of Luke’s hair against his cheek. “But still. You could stay," he said.

Part of Dak was tempted. Dak wanted to offer Luke comfort, wanted to be comforted by him. Dak wanted them to fall asleep in each other’s arms and wake up with their limbs tangled. But he also wanted to do things properly.

So after a moment’s thought, Dak replied, “We’ll see each other tomorrow, okay?” careful to keep his arms wrapped tightly around Luke’s waist. 

Luke breathed in sharply, at that, as if he could read everything Dak meant, beneath the words. Probably he could. Dak didn’t mind. He didn’t want his meaning to be hidden. 

“Okay,” Luke said, a little breathy. 

Too filled with a sparkling affection to resist, Dak leaned in, to nuzzle at the base of Luke’s bare neck. It was so close and had been a temptation for so long. Immediately, Luke’s hand was at Dak’s wrist, gripping there, anchoring Dak in place. 

“When you were off-planet, I re-read your love letters,” Dak said, breathing in the familiar scent of Luke’s warm skin. “I never deleted them. And I missed you. They were good letters.”

“I didn’t like being apart from you,” Luke said. 

Dak bit his lip and replied, “Me neither.” 

“Do you —” Luke hesitated for only a breath, “would you want me to write you a love letter now?” 

Dak breathed in sharply, feeling that particular kind of dizzy only Luke ever made him. Then he pressed his smile against Luke’s shoulder and left a kiss there. “Sweetheart, right now,” he said, “I just want you to get some sleep.” 

“Okay,” Luke whispered back, leaning his weight back against Dak’s chest and resting there, warm and utterly right in Dak’s arms, again. Finally. “I can do that.” 

* * *

As he rose from bed in the morning, Luke felt a warm fizziness flowing through his veins, and as he walked into the airy main meditation hall, there was an undeniable lightness to his carriage. There was reason to hope. More than hope even — there was reason to act, to reach out. 

The sun was still only rising and the city, though already awake, was moving more slowly and quietly than at most other hours. Above the buzzing traffic and the cries of the early morning food hawkers, Luke could hear the screech of gulls and, more faintly, the steady rhythm of the ocean waves. 

A good morning. 

When he entered the hall, a handful of others were already there, seated, or working steadily through a moving meditation sequence. Mostly adults, but there was Pree in the corner, sixteen and intermittently troubled by sleeplessness. Her natural empathetic talents tended to build up troubled emotions that would rebound on her at night. This morning though, she seemed well enough as she paused in her kata to smile briefly at Luke. Luke smiled back and took a seat in his own favorite corner. 

Some indeterminate time later, the temple’s post-dawn bell called out its low tone across the hall and Luke slowly opened his eyes, bringing himself back into this moment, his body.

Immediately, he became aware of a new presence, lingering at the back of the hall. He quickly sprung up. 

“Ben! You’re home,” Luke said as he approached, grinning. Ben still undertook a number of diplomatic duties for the New Republic, despite Owen, Beru, and Luke’s attempts to persuade him perhaps a retirement to teaching duties alone might be in order. 

“Yes, little one, here I am,” Ben agreed, pulling out of their hug only to squeeze Luke’s shoulder and give a tired smile. “You look well.” 

“I am,” Luke agreed, knowing he must be fairly broadcasting his happiness. Living among a crowd of fellow Force Sensitive people had necessarily honed his capabilities in carefully keeping his emotions from running too far over his own psychic boundaries, but Luke was still in the first throes of his excitement and Ben knew him too well. 

“I returned yesterday,” Ben said. “I’m afraid the delay meant I missed you last night.”

“Yesterday?” Luke echoed. “The landing permissions must have been a nightmare.” 

Ben smiled wryly. “Quite. Though it does help to be traveling on the ship of a former Chancellor and a Queen. I imagine we were processed rather faster than usual. I had hoped to return in time be here during the day. I thought we might weather it together.” 

Luke winced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were headed back.”

“It was meant to be a surprise, for you, Owen, and Beru,” Ben said, with a hint of ruefulness. “I ought to have remembered that we could all do with fewer surprises. But the landing traffic humbled me, in any case.” 

“I’m sorry,” Luke said, trusting Ben would know he meant more than the travel mishaps. 

“It was . . . not how I would have preferred to spend the day, but certainly I’ve had worse,” Ben said, with his characteristic dry understatement. “But at least my arrival put Owen and Beru at ease. I rather assumed they were waiting up for _you_ , but it seems they believe I run into trouble at unnaturally frequent intervals myself.”

“They’re not wrong,” Luke grinned. There was a question buried in Ben’s comment, but Luke still had to gather his courage, to speak the true answer. 

What would Ben think of Luke’s now hardly hidden hopes, that Dak might once more hold him and kiss him and share his future? As a child, Luke had so easily shared his thoughts and dreams with his uncle, but the war and Vader and their period of estrangement, however long repaired, had altered things. Luke still wanted his uncle’s blessing, but he knew now, that were to be withheld, he would still want Dak in his life. He would still pick Dak and his faith that one day Ben would come to understand, if only for Luke’s sake. But Luke hoped for a truer change of mind. Luke could not fathom losing Dak once more. But the possibility of injuring his uncle’s good opinion was still difficult to confront. 

“I trust yesterday wasn’t quite so trying for you, given the current good mood?” Ben asked, as they turned down the garden path into a sunny patch. 

Luke breathed in. “Not exactly? It was harder than I thought it would be.” Luke swallowed. “I . . . went out with Dak.” He snuck a glance sideways at Ben, but his uncle was wearing the same sympathetic listening expression he often did around their students. “I figured I’d handled being around the celebrations here for enough years. But it was weird, being in someone’s house. All these people who fought, too. It makes them happy, to remember that day, and joy can be so _loud_ , you know? It was overwhelming.” 

“You seem . . . balanced enough today,” Ben said, concern and curiosity warring across his face. 

“Yeah. We ended up leaving early. But it was okay . . . and I had a talk with Dak,” Luke said, searching for the firm conviction of the Force. “About why we broke up before. And then he brought me home.” 

Luke waited, but Ben merely nodded. 

“I know you don’t approve,” Luke forced out. “But —” only he had no way to finish that sentence. 

Ben sighed and reached out for Luke’s hand, squeezing it once. “Luke,” he said, sounding terribly old suddenly. “You are my _child_. I have only ever wanted you to be happy. I never wanted you to feel alone. But I was afraid and I worry my fears cost you happiness you might have had. I am still worried, yes, but I have seen you these last few years. I would hardly object to seeing you smile more.” 

Luke felt the back of his throat begin to ache. “I haven’t been _unhappy_ , Ben, I swear. I’m really proud of what we’re doing here. But I missed him.” Luke shrugged helplessly. “I still love him, and I want to start again.” 

Ben nodded, then stroked his beard once thoughtfully. “In that case, I hope you won’t mind if I speak to him myself?” Ben asked. “Assuming we shall be,” Ben paused delicately, “seeing one another regularly again, I feel I ought to make amends for my part in what happened.” 

Luke’s spine locked, for he was instinctively a bit alarmed by the thought. Ben and Dak were both gentle people, prone to their own equally drilled in forms of politeness, but they were both stubborn and really, it seemed terribly risky. 

“You needn’t look quite so horrified,” Ben said, amusement coloring his tone. “I’m hardly going to scare the boy away.” 

“He’s not a boy,” Luke responded immediately, falling prey to the same irritated argument he would have made at twenty and then amused at himself for it. 

Ben chuckled and Luke had to smile back, a bit reluctant. 

“Alright,” Luke conceded. “If you have to.” 

“Then that’s decided,” Ben agreed with a nod. “And it does solve the mystery of just what Owen and Beru have been electing not to tell me. You can always tell when those two have a secret,” he said, wagging a finger in front of him.

Luke rolled his eyes, feeling very much Ben's exasperated child again for the moment and relieved for it. “You can read minds,” he said. “Of course you know when they’re not telling you something.”

“You know, they needn’t have worried,” Ben said, softly. “Even I can change my mind, if it means you might have more joy in your life.”

* * *

Dak was still dozing, caught in that pleasant state between dreams and waking when Zel, Dak’s roommate, unceremoniously throw open his bedroom door and announced solemnly, “There’s a man here. To see you.” 

Dak sat up in bed, rubbing at his eyes, disoriented by the mid-morning light and Zel’s uncharacteristic breach of his personal space. “Can you . . . say more?” he asked. 

“I think,” Zel said, her dark eyebrows drawing together quizzically, “that it’s General Kenobi. The Jedi,” she added, as though Dak were likely to mistake Obi-Wan Kenobi for some other general. 

An electric thread of alarm coursed through Dak, violently throwing off all the remaining vestiges of sleep. 

"Did he say why he was here?" Dak said, getting rapidly out of bed. 

Zel shook his head. She stared, as Dak scurried to find an appropriate shirt. "Your life," she finally declared, "is really weird." She paused, pointed at a dark green shirt and declared, "Wear your teaching shirt. He's a _general_."

"I know that!" Dak hissed. 

Even the relative dignity of his teaching shirt seemed flimsy protection when Dak came out to meet Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Negotiator, once the only known surviving Jedi Master. 

“General Kenobi,” Dak said, nodding his head inanely. “Good morning.”

General Kenobi gave a faint, polite smile. 

“Should I . . . go?” Zel asked, eyes narrowed. 

“If you wouldn’t mind, a bit of privacy would be appreciated,” General Kenobi replied, with some hint of amusement in his eyes. 

Zel gave a curt wave that Dak chose to interpret as ‘send me a signal and I’ll come save you if it turns out the Jedi Master wants to murder you because you want to have carnal relations with his son (again)’. 

After an awkward several minutes sorting out cups of caf for them both, Dak sat down on the opposite side of the couch from General Kenobi. And waited. 

General Kenobi stared into his mug as though it contained some great mystery. 

“Is something . . . wrong?” Dak asked, tentatively. 

General Kenobi cleared his throat. “No, nothing like that. I simply thought we ought to . . . clear the air, I suppose.”

He took a deep breath in, as though he were the one who required emotional fortification. This only added to Dak’s misapprehension. 

“Luke’s very happy you’re,” General Kenobi paused, “friends again.” 

“So I am,” Dak said, terribly slowly. Certainly they were friends, but Dak wanted very much to be the kind of friends who kissed only each other, often, and given all that had happened last night, he was certain Luke felt the same. Still, it seemed more politic to go along with Kenobi’s description.

General Kenobi stroked his beard in silence and then finally declared, “I ought to get to the point, I supposed. I gave Luke some . . . advice, years ago. I thought it was for the best, but I am afraid it only made Luke’s path — and perhaps yours — a lonelier one.”

Dak set his jaw. He had not expected quite so forthright a conversation but he would be clear. “Well, not any longer, hopefully.” 

Kenobi’s face softened, but only slightly. He gave a clipped nod. “Luke does seem to believe we will . . . being seeing a great deal more of one another soon. And I hoped to,” he frowned. “Not to explain myself, but to share.”

Dak nodded, for he was curious even as he remained somewhat wary.

“I understand that you . . . know about Luke’s father,” Kenobi said, looking down at his mug once more. 

“Yes,” Dak agreed, slowly. The fact of his knowledge had always sat, unspoken, in the midst of Dak’s generally friendly relations with at least two-thirds of Luke’s parents. 

Kenobi nodded. “That will, perhaps, help you understand my,” he paused, as though searching for the appropriate word, “hesitations.” 

Dak could feel his temper beginning to prickle with defensiveness, but caught himself and nodded for the general to continue. 

“You should understand, Anakin and I, we used to say we were like brothers,” General Kenobi murmured, shoulders stiff. “Or if he was about to ask something unreasonable, he’d remind me I was as close to a father as he’d ever had. But I don’t suppose either of us really quite knew what that meant. The Order was my family. We only ever used the words father or brother or sister as an approximation.” He shook his head. “We loved one another, and we had favorite teachers and friends, people we would turn to, who we could trust with anything. There was care and there was comfort and there was love, and they were very much true. But it was . . . a different structure, a different understanding. I didn’t know what it meant to be a parent, until Owen and Beru taught me. Until Luke.”

Dak nodded, still on his guard. This was already the longest conversation he’d ever had one-on-one with General Kenobi. He was well aware that he was being . . . confessed to, was perhaps the best description. But he was still uncertain _why_. 

“With Luke,” General Kenobi looked down, a solemnity to his features, “I was . . . afraid to lose him. Afraid to see him hurt. And I knew so well what would be placed on his shoulders.”

“You didn’t trust me,” Dak said. “I don’t understand that. We were good for each other. I knew, even back then, that you didn’t like me very much. But you didn't trust me to take care of Luke?"

General Kenobi frowned and sighed. “It was never a question of liking or even trusting. You struck me as a perfectly nice young man and I knew Owen and Beru approved. But you were . . . very young,” Kenobi stroked his beard. “I knew how many eyes would be on Luke, once the war was over and we could rebuild. It is a burden, to carry the weight of such a long history.”

When Kenobi paused, Dak nodded slowly, waiting for him to go on. 

“Luke,” Kenobi sighed, “was raised knowing that, as much as I wanted to give him the choice to live differently. He was still my child and I wanted him to know the world that his father and I so loved. That loved us, once.” Kenobi looked out the window, eyes distant and sorrowful. “And when it came time, being a Jedi was something Luke chose. But I didn’t know you. I only knew how difficult it could be for a young man to feel deprived of freedom. I did not want Luke to watch his first love become resentment, instead.” 

Dak rubbed at his knee. He had not expected such a raw confession. It was true, he had always felt as though General Kenobi was studying him and judged him somehow lacking. And it appeared that had been true, in a way, but to hear it now, Dak understood how little indeed Dak himself had to do with that judgement. 

Dak cleared his throat and said, measured as he could be, but nevertheless with warmth in his cheeks, “I loved Luke. I still love him. And maybe you’re right, maybe I wouldn’t have been ready for everything that came with Luke, back then. But I’m ready _now_.” Dak clenched one hand into a fist and let it go, letting out a tightly held breath. “I want to say I don’t care what you think, but Luke does. I don’t want him to feel like he has to choose. You’re his family and I want to be too. You don’t have to like me, but at least give me a chance.”

He looked up then, at Kenobi. And to Dak’s surprise, the man merely nodded and smiled. 

“Luke has been happier, this last year,” Kenobi said, folding his hands in lap. “I wasn’t sure why. But I noticed. I can hardly dislike you for that.” 

Though Dak truly meant to be dignified and contained, he could not help but grin. It might have been something short of a blessing, but it was more than enough for Dak. 

* * *

Dak wanted to float across the city and take Luke up in his arms, wanted to whisper the truth of his affection into Luke’s ear, as he had so many years ago now — but he also heeded Kenobi’s words. Dak had been young and more unthinking than he’d allowed himself to admit, in those days. 

He had believed he and Luke would stay together, no matter where their paths lead, because they loved one another. There was no one else Luke would rush across a landing bay to welcome with kisses — there was only Dak and Dak had been so certain that this would always be so that he had never put enough thought into the question of how they might make their shared future life a feasible endeavor. He had needed to believe in a certain vision of what would come to be, so badly that he had pushed away the warning signs of what was to come in truth. 

Dak was older now and he comprehended Luke’s life better, for being a Jedi was no longer a matter of lightsaber training and enviable flying tricks. Luke was a much loved teacher, the forerunner of the coming generation, the bridge between the lost Order and the one still being built. Dak was no longer so wrapped up in his own wounds that he could fail to acknowledge this simple truth: to love Luke truly meant to embrace all that came with being his being chosen by the Force, with open eyes and without resentment. It would mean, too, giving Luke the time and space to consider, rather than blithely assume that their devotion to one another, real as it might be, would unite their futures. 

The steady love they had both (both!) still held for each other would be the base, but Dak needed to show Luke that they would plan and build together, from now on.

* * *

Upon his uncle Ben’s departure to speak with Dak, Luke sent Dak a message of his own — not quite a warning, but something just short of it. He received an answer after a considerable and rather anxious wait. 

_Don't worry, it went well! I think. We understand each other a little better now._

And then following in quick succession: _maybe we can see each other tonight?_

Luke grinned wildly in a way that could not help but betray that he was not looking over the backlog of messages from prospective students and their families. It was fortunate, he felt, that he was alone when he read Dak’s message, for Luke could not have hidden his electric joy from even the most elementary of the students, had they been present. 

_Yes_ , he sent back immediately. _I really want that_

 _Good, me too_ came Dak’s response. 

It was mid-afternoon and Luke was in the midst of actually accomplishing some training plans for some of the older students when another message arrived from Dak. But rather than a suggestion of a meeting place or time, it was something much lengthier and weightier indeed: 

_Dear Luke,_

_When you asked if I wanted you to write me a love letter last night, I said I just wanted you to sleep and I meant it. But of course I do want you to write me love letters again, because I want to write you love letters again, too. I can’t imagine being the same boy who wrote to you all those years ago because, looking back, I see how young we were really were. But I meant everything I said then, and I mean it now, too._

_Even when I was being cruel, trying to distract myself from you (and that’s what I was doing, really), I never stopped loving you. You’re the only person I’ve ever been in love with and you’re the only person I want to be in love with._

_I know we both made mistakes the first time around but I think, or I hope, we’ll do better now._

_So: I love you. Then, now, still. And always, I swear._

_You don’t have to say anything or do anything, but after everything you told me last night, I thought I should tell you this, too. Come see me tonight, if you want. Or take more time. Whatever you need. I’ll still be here and I’ll still want to write you love letters._

_Love,_

_Dak_

* * *

Luke knew he must look terribly windblown and electrified as he blew into Dak’s apartment building — he was attracting curious looks, despite the very strong Hosnian instinct not to be seen as prying — but how could he not be impatient, when Dak had admitted to still, to always being in love with him?

It was a testament to his great distraction that when Dak’s apartment door opened and it revealed only a vaguely nonplussed looking Zel, Luke was surprised. He had no particularly strong gift for telepathetic communication, save for where his connection with his sister gave him an advantage, but he’d long had a rather uncanny capacity for recognizing people’s presence. When he knew them as well as he knew Dak, he could often tell when they were near with only the barest concentration. Right now, Dak was not. 

“Hi,” Zel was saying, stepping aside, cupping a steaming mug in one hand and clearly still in sleepwear. 

“Dak’s not here?” Luke blurted out, still too wild with anticipation for politeness. 

Zel, thankfully, took this in stride as she did most things, and merely shrugged. “Yeah, he went to the library. I don’t think even the archivists want to be working today but he was really antsy, I guess. Blew on out of here a while ago.” 

Luke could picture it — Dak filled with anxious energy to expend — but still, any delay at this pivotal moment was a grave disappointment. 

“Hey, you feeling okay today?” Zel asked. 

Luke’s attention snapped back to the current moment. “Yeah,” he said, faintly surprised. “I’m good. Why?”

Zel gave an ambiguous grimace. “You didn’t look so great at the party last night and then you guys disappeared.”

“I’m okay,” Luke said, feeling warmed by Zel’s concern. “Dak brought me home, yesterday. I’m feeling a lot better today.” 

Zel nodded. “Okay, good.” She paused, tapping a finger against her mug, and then added, “I bet he’s in his study room, if you wanna find him,” she offered.

“Yeah, I think I will,” Luke said, with as much understatement as he could manage. “Thanks, Zel.” 

“Yup. See you,” Zel said. 

Luke bounded down the stairs to his speeder bike, his heart beating too quickly. Soon, soon he would finally be able to kiss Dak again, after too long burying his desire. 

It was Luke’s good fortune that with the Victory Day holiday still fresh on people’s minds, the Hosnian traffic police were in an expansive, cheerful mood, and did not stop him on his journey, though he far surpassed all speed limits in his eagerness to find himself in Dak’s arms once more. 

* * *

After Dak had sent Luke his letter, he had been unable to sit around waiting for the evening. He had entirely meant his promise to Luke — after all, his heart had never wavered in its choice, despite seven years of silence between them and more than one attempt to kindle a new and different romance. His heart would gladly endure a few hours or a few days of fretful worrying for Luke’s sake. He intended to do things right this time, to plan for their future together with Luke this time, eyes open. 

But for all the noble sentiments of his heart, Dak’s mind badly needed a distraction and nothing in the apartment would suffice. If he could not have his answer immediately, then he needed something to do. Dak decided that if he could not be calm, then at least he might channel his disquiet into productive work. With a shout to Zel about his plans, Dak set off for the library and upon arrival, ensconced himself in his study room, burying himself in half a dozen historical documents. 

Some time later, someone knocked at his study room door. Dak nearly jumped out of his chair, he was so startled. Before he could react, the door opened, on its own. And behind it was Luke, his hair wind-blown, as lovely as Dak had ever seen him. 

“Dak. Please,” Luke said, his blue eyes wide and focused on Dak’s face. One word, and suddenly the whole galaxy felt bright with beauty. One word, and Dak was on his feet immediately, closing the distance, taking Luke into his arms at last, and backing them up against the closest shelf as Luke’s arms twined around his shoulders, as Luke’s fingers threaded into his hair. 

They were kissing, desperately, and it felt right in a way no kisses had in years, for Dak. This, Luke’s lips on his, the sweet warmth of Luke’s mouth, was what he had been searching for. Dak groaned as Luke’s back met the side of the shelf he’d been in front of and they were suddenly, wonderfully pressed together all along the length of their torsos. Luke quickly hooked an ankle around Dak’s calf, as if to pull him closer. Dak’s own legs wanted to give out, simply from the closeness and the wave of desire coursing down his spine. 

“Dak,” Luke breathed out against Dak’s cheek and Dak leaned in helplessly to kiss him again. Luke met him, breathless and eager, and Dak let the hands in his hair direct him, shivering when Luke tugged. 

When they broke their kiss to catch their breath, Luke mumbled his name again and Dak could only murmur back, “Yes, yeah, I’m here,” as he let his hands wander, from Luke’s hips to his thighs and back up to his ribs, because there was so much to touch and gods, but Dak wanted skin. Surely it wouldn’t be too much to inch his fingers up under the hem of Luke’s shirt, would it? 

“Dak, you wrote me a _love letter_ ,” Luke said, his voice soft and awed, a tone Dak and his body associated with being pressed together in bed, sharing secrets. 

“I meant it, I meant all of it,” Dak said, pulling back only far enough to look at Luke, his flushed cheeks and bright eyes. 

Luke disentangled his fingers from Dak’s hair and slid them to cup Dak’s face. Dak felt fixed in place by Luke’s steady, devouring gaze. “I love you, too. I love you,” Luke breathed out. “I always have, I swear.”

Dak was certain there could be no more natural recourse than to lean in and kiss Luke again, lush and lingering. Luke loved him, had always loved him, and was here, hitching his leg up higher along Dak’s leg to anchor him close. Dak slipped a hand down, to grasp the underside of Luke’s thigh and squeezed, an involuntary, overwhelmed reaction to Luke sucking a kiss along Dak’s earlobe. Dak groaned softly, for that was as wonderfully, maddeningly distracting as it had been before, only he had forgotten the sensation of Luke’s following smile, pressed right where he’d been kissing. 

Dak panted as Luke’s lips continued down his neck, tasting curiously. Luke’s hands drifted down as well, scrabbling to untuck Dak’s shirt. Finally, Luke’s fingers (one set warm and scarred, one cool and smooth) brushing against the skin of his lower back reminded Dak of how easily he could do the same. Only somewhat regretfully relinquishing his grip on Luke’s thigh, Dak reached for Luke’s shirt, bunching it too tightly in his hands in his eagerness to pull it up. 

Luke let out a soft, hitched laugh as Dak slide his hands up under Luke’s finally freed shirt hem, to the warm skin over his ribs. 

“What?” Dak murmured, brushing his nose against Luke’s, guided by some instinct to reach for comfort and closeness and desire all at once. 

Luke kissed him again, brief and off-center, then said, “I wanted this so much, you have no idea. I’m just — I didn’t think I’d get this again.” 

Dak felt his chest clench, at the thought that Luke had been waiting for this moment, as much as Dak had.

“I wanted this, too,” Dak promised, sliding a palm up to the center of Luke’s warm chest. “The whole time, even when I told myself I was over you.” 

“I missed you,” Luke said, his warm hands tracing their way up Dak’s back. “I missed this. I missed touching you.” 

“Me too.” Dak felt close to skin-drunk already, just from this, but he wanted so much more and since Luke seemed altogether inclined to indulge him, he focused once more on the task of uncovering Luke. 

Dak was reaching for the tie that kept Luke's high collar in place, thinking already of how Luke had so loved Dak tracing along his collarbones with kisses, when there was a heavy thud behind them. 

“Oh! Oh my gods!” a voice exclaimed, high pitched and rather horrified.

Dak, acting on a long-unused instinct honed during their youthful romance, flattened himself against Luke’s body, trying to obscure their identities as much as possible. Luke pressed his face to Dak’s shoulder. 

“Sorry! I’m sorry,” the voice said starting to fade, as whoever it was rapidly retreated. “But this is a _library_.”

The real anguish in their voice informed Dak whoever had come upon them must have been a Hosnian. A faint tendril of concern that this would somehow lead to his being banned from the library wormed its way into Dak’s general embarrassment. 

But Luke was laughing, for all that he was red in the face, and he was so compelling to look at.

“I guess we could’ve picked a better venue,” Luke said, blue eyes alight. 

“Somewhere with doors. And locks,” Dak said fervently. He glanced back toward his study room, which technically fulfilled those requirements, and added, “And space for two human adults.”

Luke laughed again and Dak felt a curl of pleasure to feel the reverberation of it, pressed together as they were.

But then he bit his lip, backing up slightly and reaching up to tuck some of Luke’s hair back into place. The interruption had broken some of the fever of desire and he recalled that this had not been what he had intended. He had meant to do things right, to have the rest of the discussion they ought to have before beginning their romance anew. “We should probably talk about all of this. I mean, I know we’ve,” he swallowed, unable to stop his grin, “said the most important stuff, but. The rest of it, what this is going to look like.”

Luke tangled his fingers in Dak’s and squeezed. “Yeah, I know. I want that. But,” he bit his lip, then looked up through his eyelashes, an incongruously shy expression on his face considering the way he had so recently been tugging on Dak’s earlobe with his teeth, “I’ve just — I’ve been thinking about kissing and —” his eyes wandered down the length of Dak’s chest, so that Dak felt a wave of heat rush through his body, “touching you for a really long time.” Luke leaned in and whispered into Dak’s ear, “Let me take you home first?”

How could Dak deny him, when his tone promised all Dak wanted and more? 

“We’ll still talk. About the future, about us,” Luke said, in that wide-eyed earnest manner Dak had always been so helplessly charmed by — even when Dak had first met him, Luke had been already been thrust into a fateful role. But despite that, then and now, he’d displayed such a core of sincerity and truthfulness that Dak had, from the beginning, felt an overpowering tenderness toward him. “But let me take you home first.” 

“Yes,” Dak breathed out, for it was the invitation he had been waiting years to hear. 

* * *

Luke lead Dak out of the library by the hand, feeling giddy euphoria in his limbs. When they reached Luke’s speeder bike and got on, Dak’s arms immediately slid tight around Luke’s waist. Luke felt warmth bloom in his stomach. Dak was pressed up against the whole length of his back and radiating excitement and pleasure. 

“I really wanted to kiss you,” he said as Luke started the bike. “That first time you gave me a ride to the Senate.”

“I know,” Luke said. Dak pinched him and Luke laughed, pulling them out of the library’s lot. “I wanted you to kiss me, too. I gave you a ride because I didn’t want you to leave yet.”

Luke could feel Dak’s answering gratification pulsing warmly at the edges of his mind, but all Dak said was a pithy, “It’s a nice bike. How could I say no?” 

As they slipped speedily toward the Temple, Luke added, “That day we went to the beach, I wanted to kiss you then, too. I had to remind myself not to,” because being the cause of Dak’s self-satisfied delight was an undeniable joy. 

Dak laughed and his arms tightened around Luke’s waist. “You did always have a thing for my shoulders,” he said. Though he couldn’t see it, Luke was certain Dak was grinning. Luke would admit to countless embarrassing truths for that. 

When they pulled into the Temple courtyard, Luke could hear conversation floating out of the communal dining room. It was tea time — a Hosnian tradition the Temple had adopted, if only because dealing with stubborn Force sensitive children was eased somewhat by an afternoon caffeine reinforcement. 

“I could introduce you,” Luke offered, feeling both nervous and eager. He badly wanted Dak to love the Temple and its inhabitants, and for Dak to be loved in return. The greatest joys of his life, together. “Formally, I mean. I know you’ve met a bunch of the kids before, but everyone else. They’d love to meet you.” Luke twisted around to look at Dak, who had taken off his helmet already.

Dak disembarked and held out a hand to Luke, who got off of the bike and took the proffered hand immediately, stepping in close to Dak. 

“I’d really like that,” Dak said, a gentle smile on his face. “But how about,” his eyes took on a mischievous light, “you show me your bedroom first?” Even as he said it, Dak’s expression was equal parts abashed and heated. 

Luke adored him. And the sense that any moment not spent touching Dak’s bare skin was a moment wasted rushed back over him. “Yes,” he agreed, leaning in to steal a swift kiss, before stepping back and tugging at Dak’s hand. “C’mon,” he said, taking off towards his living quarters with rapid steps. “This way.” 

* * *

Once they reached Luke’s living quarters, things progressed rapidly, all their held-in longing spilling out in their rapid shedding of clothes and the way Luke pulled Dak firmly down onto the bed beside him. 

Dak could hardly allow Luke all the advantage in their situation, however, and soon ensured that he could once more see that picture he had so treasured — Luke, naked and laid out in bed, reaching out for Dak. 

“I just —” Luke sounded breathless. His blush was as delicate and far reaching as Dak remembered, blooming on his cheeks only to spread down his neck and play across his collar bones. Dak reached out to retrace the journey with his fingers. “It’s been a while,” Luke finished, turning his face towards Dak’s touch. “Since I did this with anyone.” 

“A while?” Dak asked, despite himself. He did not truly want to know who had kissed Luke and held him in the years Dak had not. He had never fooled himself into believing Luke had remained his alone — how could he, when Luke was the first Jedi in a generation, the hero of the Battle of Yavin? But the years that were gone were years that they ought to have had, would have had — 

But Luke was in no similarly contemplative mood, it would seem, for at that moment he huffed, “A really long time, okay?” 

“Okay,” Dak agreed, pressing his smile to Luke’s shoulder. 

“Don’t be smug,” Luke protested, tangling a hand into Dak’s hair, throwing a leg over Dak’s to pull him closer. 

“I’m not smug,” Dak said, though distantly and with difficulty for Luke’s fingers in his hair were tugging lightly, directing him up, and it sent frissons of electric warmth across Dak’s shoulders. 

Luke kissed him then, thoroughly, so Dak could only melt into it and into Luke’s body. He could not, surely, be expected to do anything other than that. When Luke pulled away, to Dak’s quiet protest, he said, “I’m Force sensitive. I can feel it, you know.”

For a moment, Dak had no idea at all what Luke was saying, for far more interesting than their conversation were Luke’s lips. They ought to be kissing once more. Perhaps because Luke could read his mind, or perhaps simply because his desire was so clear, Luke leaned up and did kiss Dak again. 

“But. Is smug an emotion?” Dak asked, when their lips parted and he had recovered the thread of conversation. He pressed a kiss to Luke’s jaw and shivered under the downward push of Luke’s fingers along his back. “What does that feel like?” 

The Force came as naturally to Luke as breathing and so Dak had liked to ask him questions, tease him into explaining, not for the answer but for the little frown lines that would appear between Luke’s eyebrows. But now, here, Luke merely shook his head slightly as Dak shifted to mouth along his neck. 

Luke’s breath hitched as he said, “I mostly just wanted you, I guess. I wanted to be kissed the way you kissed me. I wanted them to know me like you do. I was still looking for you.” 

Dak pressed his face to Luke’s collarbone and confessed, “For a long time after we broke up, I didn’t want this with anyone else either. I wanted the last person I kissed to be you.” 

Luke made a noise in his throat and tugged at Dak’s shoulders. Dak followed the unspoken plea, leaning back up, falling into Luke’s kiss. 

“I am, now,” Luke said between desperate kisses. “I will be.” A promise, sealed by their tangled limbs. 

* * *

Luke drifted awake, warm and content, feeling the soft comfort of Dak’s presence even before he was fully aware of the arm slung around his waist, or the breath ghosting gentle against his shoulder. When Luke opened his eyes and shifted slightly out of Dak’s embrace, it was only for the pleasure of looking upon Dak’s face at rest. The blanket covering them both had slipped down toward their waists. Luke carefully pulled it back up. 

It was later than Luke would have assumed, the red-gold of the sunset creeping in shafts across the bed from the sliver of space between the drawn curtains. They had certainly missed dinner, at least by Temple standards, but for the moment, no hunger could outweigh Luke’s absolute pleasure in finally having Dak here in his bed, at ease in their intimacy. 

Luke could see it when Dak started to come awake. Dak made a humming noise and buried his face into the pillow, then squirmed closer to Luke and settled once more. Dak had always so hated to be woken when he was off-duty, preferring to drift awake at his own leisurely pace. Though in their younger years, Luke, who had been raised on the perpetually early hours of a moisture farm, had delighted in teasing Dak about this self-indulgence, he was now more than inclined to allow Dak all the simple pleasures that could be had. 

But it seemed the years had worn away at Dak’s youthful capacity for clinging to sleep even at the most awkward of hours, for Luke had not been gazing upon him for very long when Dak blinked, stretched, and mumbled, “Luke?”

“Yeah,” Luke smiled, rubbing extra warmth along Dak’s spine with a firm hand. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” Dak repeated back, following that with a sleepy grin and an uncoordinated kiss. 

For a time, they basked in the small intimacies of shared space, of knowing touch was welcome. 

Finally, Luke offered, “Should we have that talk now?” Though part of him wanted to remain exactly in this moment, he had made a promise, and he wanted very much to know where they would stand in the future. Dak knew now, how their diverging paths had parted them, and Luke was certain that Dak would not have such fervent declarations of enduring love with no plan for they might unite their futures from now on. 

“Yeah,” Dak agreed. But then an ill-timed growl from his stomach reminded them both that in their emotion, neither had eaten in quite a few hours. 

With a giggle, Luke proposed a dinner scrounged from his small kitchen, to which Dak readily agreed. As they prepared the meal together, they fell into the easy domestic routine that the war had denied them, earlier. It was only after their pieced together dinner that they finally dove into the conversation that meant so much to their futures, individual and shared. Curled up together on the couch, they began. 

“So. I guess the big thing is, I have to stay on Hosnia. With the Temple,” Luke said, keeping it soft. He had listened and stored away Dak’s chatter over the last months, recalled clearly the affection with which Dak recounted stories about his time on his research vessel. It would be hard to compete with the call of space flight, if that was what Dak still longed for. “And you might not be here after next year, once the consortium’s done. I want us to be together, though. Wherever you go.”

“I . . . like Hosnia, actually,” Dak said, scrunching his nose a little. “I have friends here. It’s not too far to get home on short notice. There's a lot of stellar cartography work to do, even on-planet.”

“So you might," Luke paused, trying not to put too much weight on his words, "want to stay? After next year."

"Yeah, I think so," Dak offered, sounding not tentative but certainly contemplative. "They want some of us to stay, help with the center they've been setting up. I mean, that was the point — build up collaborative field skills, but also find people who would do the coordination, for the Republic. I wouldn’t mind be planet-side more.” He reached out for Luke’s hand, twining their fingers together. “And not just because of us. After the war, after I went home, I realized — this is gonna sound silly, but I like being _comfortable_. I like having a place where I can accumulate things. A place that doesn’t feel temporary. I don’t think I knew that when I was younger.”

"Do you want to go home? I mean, back to Alista?" Luke asked, thinking of Dak’s beloved home planet, which he had never seen in person, despite the vivid impressions he had of it from Dak. "We could figure it out." It would be complex, but Dak some of the time was a far superior alternative to Dak none of the time. 

“I’d like us to go back for bits of the year, at least,” Dak said slowly and thoughtfully. “I want you to meet my moms finally.”

“Me, too,” Luke said immediately, for it was the absolute truth — though he had only ever conversed with them via shaky and irregular holo connections, he had always enjoyed the long-distance care of Dak’s mothers and had missed them in the intervening years. “I’d like that.” 

“Good,” Dak said, his eyes bright with affection. Then he turned more serious again. “I’m not sure I belong there, full time, anymore. I knew I didn’t want to stay in the Fleet, but the Republic’s so young. There’s still so much to do and I can be a part of it, here.” He shifted over to rest his chin on Luke’s shoulder. “I think I’d be happy here, as long as we could go back to Alista sometimes. Maybe I’d go on field trips once in a while.”

“Oh,” Luke said, squeezing at Dak’s shoulder, feeling a warm, surprised tenderness in his chest. “Yeah? You’d tell me, if you wanted something more, right? I don’t want you to feel like you have to settle, because of me.”

Dak framed Luke’s face between his hands. “I’m not _settling_ ,” he promised. “I just —” Dak shrugged. “I did a lot of things I said I would, by myself. I want to do things with you now.”

Overcome with emotion, Luke tucked himself up to Dak’s side. “If it were up to me, I’d go anywhere you were,” Luke added, mumbling it against Dak’s neck with honest emotion, but knowing it was a truth easy to confess in part because it was so impossible.

Dak kissed him for that and Luke leaned into it gratefully. 

“I wish I could,” Luke said, keeping his hand at the nape of Dak’s neck. 

“It’s okay. I don’t mind sharing you,” Dak said, shaking his head. “I get it. I guess I always knew, but I get it more, this time. Seeing you here made it clear. You love the Temple, and the kids, and the people feeling like they have somewhere to go. I just want you to feel like you can relax more. Do stuff with me. I want you to be happy, not just dutiful.”

“You make me happy,” Luke said simply, meaning it sincerely and entirely. 

“Good,” Dak said, flushing slightly. 

Luke could hardly resist kissing him again and as there was no reason at all not to, he did exactly as he desired. Neither he or Dak spoke in anything close to full sentences for a long time after. 

* * *

When Luke asked, Dak could not help but immediately agree to remain at Luke’s for the night. His reluctant sense of proprietary suggested that Luke’s parents would be more pleased to welcome him back if he did not take liberties so quickly. But it was not within Dak's capacities to argue when faced with Luke’s request. For, after all, Dak did not wish to leave. All his emotions and certainly all of his limbs wanted nothing more than to sink into Luke’s warm bed and embrace. After being so long without it, Dak might have glutted himself on Luke's affection and still not have had enough. 

“And you could stay for breakfast tomorrow,” Luke added, eyes bright with a sweet excitement. “You could meet everyone, finally. Rona and Ekta kept asking about you, after that dinner.” The hand he had been absently tracing up and down Dak’s spine paused in emphasis. 

Dak grinned — he had liked Luke's friends and liked even more the news that they would welcome him — then pressed back into Luke’s fingers. But still, he said, “I'd like that a lot, but honey, I want to make a good impression! Wearing yesterday’s clothes to breakfast is the opposite of that. Just think,” Dak paused to sigh in pleasure as Luke reached up to stroke soothingly through Dak’s hair. “Just think what my Ammi would say if I did that.” 

“You can borrow some of my clothes,” Luke offered, rather firmly. As a point in his favor, they had already proven when they rose to prepare dinner, that Dak had no difficulty fitting into Luke’s sleepwear still. “You used to wear my clothes all the time.” 

“We all wore terrible orange flight suits. No one could tell the difference,” Dak pointed out, feeling that Luke was being rather stubborn in his choice to ignore Dak’s meaning. Sensing that Luke was about to voice the many exceptions to Dak’s statement — Dak had always been a sentimental man and had in fact borrowed and never given back an assortment of Luke’s civilian clothes — Dak hurried to say, “Anyway, sweetheart, how would that be better?” He wrinkled his nose and added in a laughing tone, “We might as well just come down with a sign that says, ‘we definitely had sex last night’.”

“No one would care,” Luke countered, tugging softly at a strand of Dak's hair. Dak could not tell if he intended it to be as distracting as it was, but the sensation was too lovely to protest. Dak pressed his face to Luke's neck, nuzzling there.

In response, Luke hummed low in his throat, a sensation Dak felt in his own chest. Then, in that terribly earnest tone of voice that Dak was helpless to resist, Luke said, “I don’t want you to be a secret. You’re important to me. And so is the Temple. I want everyone to know about you. I want you to know everyone here.” 

Dak felt his happiness too overpowering for stillness. “Okay,” he agreed with a kiss. Dak wanted everyone to know about Luke as well, to anchor this in permanence for all to know. This time there would be no corrosive secrets, and no one would misunderstand how vital they were to each other’s happiness. “Maybe we could call my moms too.”

Luke smiled softly back. “I’d like that.” 

As he drifted off to sleep, the reassuring pattern of Luke’s soft breathes in his ear, Dak felt a great contentment settle in his limbs. 

* * *

Thankfully for the two reunited lovers, what came to pass the following morning was a scene of no great drama. They had done more than they suspected in preparing Luke’s fellow Jedi for such an announcement (they were, after all, telepaths and empaths, in addition to being compatriots who saw Luke daily), and of course Luke’s parents had been forewarned. Or, perhaps more accurately, Obi-Wan had been forewarned, while Owen and Beru had harbored their own closely held suspicions and hopes for some months now. 

So when they entered the dining hall hand-in-hand that morning, none of the adults expressed any particular surprise. To Luke, this was not entirely a shock — his prediction that no one would express alarm at Dak appearing at breakfast in Luke’s clothes had been at least as truthful as it had been self-serving — though it was, privately, the slightest of disappointments. This renewal of his attachment with Dak was a monumental occurrence in his life and perhaps just a little fanfare, or some curiosity at least, from those closest to him might have been welcome. As it was, however, Luke could find no fault in the amused, congratulatory smiles of Rona and Ekta, or the solemn, approving nod of his Uncle Owen. They were glad for him, he could feel, and welcomed Dak. He could want no more. 

“Oh, Dak,” Beru said, with a small smile. “Good morning, dear. Sit down anywhere.” 

If Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows rather significantly — though not, it must be said, with any true disapproval, for he could hardly revoke a blessing so recently given — at Dak, Luke missed the interaction entirely, for as frequently happened, he had been distracted by one of the younger Temple students demanding his attention. 

“Did your friend come for a sleepover?” inquired little Mina. “Your friends never stay for sleepovers.” This had been a source of some distress for Mina, once it had occurred to her to consider her teacher someone who had friends outside of herself and the other Temple children. She found sleepovers to be a delight and, as a generous and somewhat imperious soul, wanted everyone to enjoy what she did. 

Luke cleared his throat, conscious that next to him, Dak was going slightly pink while nevertheless trying to suppress a laugh. 

“Mina,” chided her older brother and guardian, Tel, looking even more heartily embarrassed by the situation. “Don’t be rude.”

“It’s true,” Mina said, pouting. 

“Well, you’re all my friends and you all sleep at the Temple,” Luke responded, before a true sibling spat could erupt. 

“That’s different,” Mina said with absolute confidence. “Your friend with the purple lightsaber never stays over,” she pointed out. 

“Oh?” Dak asked, looking at Luke with amusement and interest. “Is that right.” 

Luke gave him a look that was too filled with affection to truly convey censure, despite his frown. Then he picked back up Mina’s conversational thread and said, “Dak’s my friend and I think you’re going to see a lot more of him.” 

Mina squinted a little at Dak and nodded. Curiosity apparently satisfied, she fell upon her breakfast with gusto. 

When Luke turned back to Dak, he received a soft smile and a quick hand clasp beneath the table. Then they both followed Mina’s example and began to partake of their own meals.

With Dak next to him, his fellow Jedi surrounding him, and his beloved parents only seats away, Luke felt a glowing warmth in his chest. He and his family had come far indeed from the dunes of Tatooine, had been taken up by the vagaries of fate, but they had built a home once more. Now, with his great love once more by his side, Luke felt, at last, that this new home was complete. 


End file.
